Memoirs of a Talking Fishbone
by Satellites on Parade
Summary: Fifty stories for HtTYD. Updates daily or every other day. LATEST: Hiccup prepares for his sudden chiefdom alone. Ratings of stories vary, but usually it's not over PG-13/T. Pairings will include Hiccup/Astrid and Fishlegs/Ruffnut, primarily.
1. First Kiss

Hello, all! Guess WHAT! I have decided to take up the 50 prompts challenge using _How to Train Your Dragon_. For the next fifty days, to the best of my ability, I will be posting short (or maybe even long!) ficlet responses to each of the fifty prompts, starting today, October 10th and ending somewhere around November 29th (GOD, do I hope my math is right).  
This'll be a tough challenge, but I'm willing to give it a go. Wish me luck, and I hope you enjoy what I'm going to be farting out for the next fifty days.  
Oh, and as for the mistletoe thing, it's actually quite fascinating; the long and tall of it is that, in Norse mythology, the goddess Frigga made every living thing on earth to swear not to do any harm to her son, Baldur. The only thing she missed was mistletoe, and it was with that that Loki managed to kill Baldur. The gods eventually resurrected Baldur, and Frigga declared that mistletoe was sacred, and was to be considered a symbol of love and peace. (Her thinking is inexplicable, to say the least.) The Norse also considered it to be an aphrodisiac... but that, loves, will come later. ;)  
For now... enjoy!  
This takes place in the winter before the film (which looked like it might've been in summer or spring), so Hiccup and Astrid are approximately a year younger than they are in the movie. DO NOT CORRECT MY MATH IF IT IS FAIL~

–

"Loki be damned for this," Hiccup growled under his breath.

It was the twelfth night of Jul, and Berk was not about to let anyone forget it. The bonfires burned bright in the indigo bruise of the evening, the smell of burning logs and warm mead wafting over the sea cliffs. Orange smoke twisted toward the stars and the laughter with it; everyone in the village was circled around some fire or another, their smiles painted gold by the firelight, seeming warm even in the bitter cold of the surrounding December. Songs were being sung and merriment was being made and many a Viking was being joyfully inebriated. It would have been a wonderful celebration, were it not for the fact that Hiccup had found himself slouching beneath a sprig of mistletoe with none other than Astrid Hofferson.

She was staring at him with the kind of intensity he couldn't tell implied murder or excitement. To be honest, he was leaning about more toward the murder outcome, because it was Astrid, and Astrid liked to murder things, particularly him.

He thanked the _gods_ that there was no one else around but the two of them. The sprig was hanging at the top crook of an opened garden gate that led to the grazing field for the sheep. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten there, but he'd never been one for parties of a larger scope than the simple birthday celebration, and so he had slipped away to find some much-needed space. Astrid had appeared to interrupt him a few minutes later, and here they were, both pairs of eyes briefly fixating on the mistletoe over their heads and then on each other.

Astrid tossed her bangs out of her eyes, still squinting suspiciously at Hiccup, as though she were expecting him to suddenly morph into Snotlout. Hiccup felt his cheeks growing hot beneath his freckles, and he cleared his throat more loudly than intended, bowing his head nervously.

"Should we just... ignore this, and, er, walk in extremely separate directions?" he ventured, his voice inexplicably hoarse. "That's probably what you want to do, and frankly it just might be what I want to do, if of course you don't want to do it – the tradition... thing – in which case I definitely don't want to do it; that is I'll walk away, off a cliff if I have to, and then you probably won't murder me and wear my entrails as a necklace, and then we—"

"No," Astrid said abruptly, her tone crisp as it would be with one who had made up her mind completely, and then she reached forward, grabbed his shirt, and yanked him into a lip-lock that would put the gods themselves to shame.

Hiccup trembled against her, his knobby knees growing as weak as a newborn lamb's, and he let out an entirely involuntary whimper, trying to keep from grinning beneath her lips. All too soon, however, it was over, and their faces parted without a sound. Astrid's eyes were downcast, and Hiccup could not imagine why; she had seemed perfectly firm in her convictions a second ago.

"By Thor," he croaked, stiffening to keep from crumpling at her feet.

And then she punched him, hard, in the stomach, knocking him clean off his feet and into the snow. He gasped at the freezing touch of it soaking through his clothes, finding himself unable to scramble back up. He stared at her in complete consternation, inwardly marveling at how utterly divine she looked in the pale glitter of the moonlight.

"Don't tell anybody about this," she said firmly, pointing one mittened finger threateningly at him, "or I'll chop your bony knees off."

"Well," Hiccup gulped, "I... can't imagine losing those."

She nodded triumphantly at him, and Hiccup swore he saw a smile hiding beneath her blonde hair and the darkness of the night. And, seeming satisfied with her accomplishment, she turned and began to stomp away through the thick mountains of snow.

"Astrid!" Hiccup called after her, stumbling to his feet and tripping after her. She turned, looking surprised.

"What?" she retorted defensively.

"Was I, uh," he swallowed, not really believing he was going to say it, "I mean, was that... better than kissing Snotlout?"

She blinked, staring at him, looking completely taken aback, before replying, as though it was perfectly obvious, "I've never kissed Snotlout. I've never kissed anybody but you."

As though that was the end of any necessary conversation they would have at that moment, she resumed her walking, her braid tossing over her shoulder at her sharp turnabout, and as Hiccup watched her go he was so mesmerized by her he nearly didn't notice that it was starting to snow.


	2. Final

You should all be warned that as this challenge goes on, I will probably not be posting these so close together. xD  
Oh, and fear not; these won't _all_ be Hiccup/Astrid (but about... 80% of them will, bahaha). Haters gonna hate but... not the whole time? Ehehe.  
Mmyep! Enjoy!

–

"I am not getting married, mother, and that's final."

Astrid thought marriage was, for lack of a better word, stupid. She had never been able to comprehend what was so stunningly great about it, because it certainly didn't sound very pleasant at all – being legally bound to the whim of some brainless idiot for whom she would have to cook meals and clean all variations of dirty socks. For Astrid, the whole romance this was… unimpressive. It sounded boring and disgusting and the only debatably good thing that seemed to come out of it was reproduction.

Oh, certainly; her parents seemed in love enough, always affectionately bickering and whacking each other playfully on the arm or upside of the head… but Astrid wasn't entirely certain she could forge such a relationship with any living creature. She admitted she adored her parents and admired how well they managed to get along, but in some ways she found herself a little envious, or contemplative, or even put-out. Being in love seemed splendid but was, in her opinion, entirely too much work; as such, she decided it would be much more entertaining and practical to make herself an axe and do something useful with it. Who needed men, anyway? This wasn't the time to settle down and smile coyly; it was the time to prove herself. This would be her only chance, and she took it without a second glance.

–

"Go."

The monosyllabic word was breathless but carried such fortitude that she was certain Hiccup could hear it, even soaring so many feet above her. As he and the Night Fury – his Night Fury – rocketed toward the Green Death, their courage beating in tandem, she could hardly contain the roaring admiration that had developed so suddenly in her since the night before.

She was going to marry that boy, and for that he'd damned well better be grateful enough to survive.

"Go, Hiccup," she repeated hoarsely, even after he'd vanished from sight. "_Go_."

–

"You are marrying me," she said, jabbing a finger firmly into his bony chest, "and that is final."


	3. Numb

This one sucks. I'm just going to say that upfront. It's choppy and terrible and poorly written and... everything. Just... bleh. Not one of my favorites, but a prompt is a prompt.  
This one was colossally hard to write for me, for whatever dumb reason, and it doesn't really tie into the prompt unless you've heard the song of the same name by Linkin Park. I remembered one line from it that was something like, "all I want to do is be more like me and be less like you." I realized it would probably be the opposite for Hiccup if he was talking about his dad, and thus this came about.  
Urgh. Hope you guys like it.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story. Also I DO LOVE STOICK AND HE IS AN EXCELLENT FATHER.

–

One of the things Hiccup never dared tell anyone was that, even though it was for the smallest amount of time, he had once hated his father.

He was fourteen, which would ordinarily have been a fine age indeed, were it not for the fact that his ineptitude around the village may have been at its highest ever. There seemed to be a direct correlation between how hard he was trying to prove himself and how magnificently he managed to ruin everything. He didn't know how it happened, nor why. He just wanted to make them realize he wasn't a complete failure. Unfortunately, all of his methods for doing this seemed to put him in an inordinate amount of trouble.

He knew it wasn't his father's fault, and he had never resented him for it. He knew that he was the disappointment, and that though his father was gruff about it at times, he stuck up for him in the village when the need arose. Hiccup loved his father; he always had. But he had never really had to question whether his father loved him back. He just assumed he did.

Just one more thing for him to be proven wrong about.

One evening, an evening as filled with shame and foreboding as any other night, he'd been hiking back up to his house after an evening distancing himself from civilization as much as possible (at the request of the villagers). It was cold and the darkness of the approaching night was falling rapidly in the autumn mist. Hiccup shuddered – he'd have to start wearing his vest again soon.

He reached the door and wearily put his scrawny arms up to push it open, but he faltered at the sound of voices.

He didn't know why he eavesdropped. It was just... instinctive sometimes.

He pressed his ear to the door and was able to vaguely distinguish the two separate voices of Stoick and Gobber. Of course; he'd forgotten Gobber was going to drop by for supper tonight. This was the time at which he and Stoick typically had their "important fireside talks."

The conversation was fairly uninteresting until Hiccup heard a muffled word that he recognized as his name.

He crept around the side of the house and crouched beneath the open kitchen window. The firelight flickered against the walls, dying them a warm orange. Hiccup briefly wished he was inside.

"I just don't know where I went wrong, Gobber," Stoick was saying heavily.

"Ye didn' go wrong nowhere, Stoick," Gobber answered patiently. "Quit yer fussin'. He'll come 'round."

Hiccup assumed they were talking about him.

"That's what we've been saying for years, for Odin's sake!" Stoick groaned. "Ever since he was a _boy_ everybody's been telling me, 'oh, don't you fear a bit, Stoick; the lad'll come around eventually. Just give him time. He's just a boy.' But he's not a boy anymore, Gobber! He's nearly fifteen!"

Gobber scoffed at this.

"I'm serious!" Hiccup could hear the strain in his father's voice, and it made his stomach twist. Gobber sighed and there was silence, before Hiccup heard the words he would always wish he never had.

"Thor almighty, why couldn't he have been more like me?"

Hiccup choked noiselessly on something he could not identify, utterly ashamed at the hot tears that had begun to swell in the corners of his eyes. Half of him wanted to leap to his feet and tell them that he was there, that he was right there and had been the whole time, and to see the looks on their faces. He wasn't entirely sure what the other half wanted to do, but he was fairly certain it involved running away into the dark and crying somewhere that no one would find him.

He chose to run.

–

"Man, you shoulda seen the look on Dad's face when I knocked out that Nadder during last night's raid!"

"What're you _talking_ about, doofus? That was _me_."

"Uh, no, Ruff, it wasn't. When're you gonna learn that girls can't fight dragons?"

"Oh, you wanna bet, troll-breath? I'll kill a _hundred_ dragons, and then I'll kill you for good measure!"

"Aw, shut up. Plus, everyone knows Dad loves me better."

"He does _not_!"

"Hey – HEY! Get offa me, you wench!"

Hiccup's eyes wandered from his untouched plate of meat to the warring twins across the table. Snotlout was chortling at the battle, Fishlegs seemed to be particularly worried about Ruffnut, and Astrid had no interest whatsoever. To be honest, sometimes he didn't know why he ate at the same table as they did. They rarely noticed he was there anyway.

"Wh... well, uh, you know, maybe your parents love both of you... e-equally...?" Fishlegs ventured nervously, his voice cracking. The twins froze in their positions and turned their heads slowly to look at him with expressions of such bewilderment it was almost comical.

"Or, uh," Fishlegs gulped, "or not."

Hiccup had spent the past twenty minutes or so debating whether or not he should ask them the question he'd been turning over in his head for the past several days. He knew they probably wouldn't care at all, or would shoot a few insults his way and laugh about it and be no help whatsoever, but they were honestly his last shot for advice, seeing as he couldn't very well speak to Stoick or Gobber.

"Um." He cleared his throat, and, shockingly enough, all eyes at the table turned to him (except for Astrid's, of course). "Hey guys, uh... do you... am I like... my dad?"

"No," Snotlout said immediately, tearing some meat off of his leg of lamb. "Your dad's cool. You're not."

"Thank you," Hiccup replied sarcastically, glancing hopefully around the table for a better answer.

"Nah, not really," the twins added in unison, looking furious at the tandem in which they spoke. They paused, before Tuffnut grunted, "like Snotlout said. Your dad's like... a _badass_. And you're—"

"A wimp," Ruffnut finished. "And a screw-up."

"Gee," Hiccup muttered, propping his chin in his hand and staring at them, deadpan.

"I mean," Fishlegs ventured thoughtfully, "the people who knew your mom say you're a lot like her. Scrawnier, you know?"

"My mom was a great warrior, thank you, and Dad says she... filled out... quite nicely." Hiccup shuddered at the awkwardness of his statement.

"Yeah, but _you're_ not," Tuffnut sneered. "What, did you have some wimpy grandpa, or something? Because you're not _nearly_ as awesome as either of your parents."

Hiccup cringed.

There was a silence, and a long one, at that. Hiccup's gaze had strayed back to the now-cold dinner on the wooden plate in front of him, and he was trying to ignore the unpleasant sinking sensation in his chest. Well, he shouldn't be so disappointed. He'd seen it coming, after all.

"But you know..." Hiccup's head jerked up in surprise at the reasonable tone in Snotlout's voice. "I'm not really like _my_ parents, either."

Hiccup gaped at him.

"Me neither," Ruffnut chimed in.

"Yeah, same," Tuffnut grumbled. Fishlegs nodded vigorously in agreement.

"It'd be boring if we were like our parents," Snotlout said simply, pushing the brim of his helmet up with his thumb. "I mean, 'cause then everybody would be the same. My dad's cool and all, yeah, but he doesn't have a very good sense of humor."

"Yeah, and my dad's pretty good at dragon fighting, but he's not very bright," Ruffnut offered.

"Well, we know where you get it from, then," Tuffnut cackled, and Ruffnut shoved his head viciously into the surface of the table. (There was a Tuffnut-shaped dent in it from the many times she had previously done so.)

"And my parents are really good at killing dragons," Fishlegs added, "but I'm not... not yet, anyway. Gotta practice." He beamed.

Hiccup didn't know why, but he looked over at Astrid, as though expecting her to add something to the conversation. He couldn't imagine what, since she was exactly like her parents, in looks and skills and everything in-between. She made her family immensely proud because she was hewn flawlessly in their image.

"Don't worry about trying to be like your parents, Hiccup," she said finally, each syllable sending a shudder down Hiccup's ribcage. She didn't look up from her meal. "You're fine just being you."

He couldn't help but gawk at her – at _all_ of them. He had never foreseen the day when the five people around him would offer him kind words. If someone had told him three days ago that he'd be receiving encouragement from Snotlout, he would have dropped to his knees laughing.

And yet, here they were, circled around him like – dare he say it? – _friends_, almost, and their eyes were watching him expectantly, waiting for him to respond to their words.

"Uh," he finally said, his voice staggered. "...Th-thanks, guys."

"Don't get me wrong; you're still a total loser," Snotlout said quickly, narrowing his eyes at Hiccup.

"Yeah, don't think this means we _like_ you or anything," Ruffnut snarled. Tuffnut jerked his head in assent.

Fishlegs shrugged a little helplessly.

"I don't... think my dad's very proud of me." Hiccup had decided that he felt comfortable telling them his worries now that he'd managed to once and they hadn't torn him to bits with mockery.

"Pffft," Snotlout scoffed. "Of course he's not. _I _wouldn't be, if I was him."

"So just _make_ him proud," Astrid edged in, waving her wooden spoon firmly at Hiccup. "Don't sit around and mope like an idiot. It makes you look stupid." She paused and appended: "Even though you already are. It makes it worse."

Hiccup grinned idiotically at her. "Thanks, Astrid. I mean, all of you guys – thanks! You're right! I'll go out there and I'll make my dad so proud of me he can't stand it!"

He made to stand dramatically up from his stool, but instead his cumbersome feet became tangled in the legs and he wound up toppling over in a heap instead. The twins cackled maliciously at him, and soon enough Snotlout joined in, as did the nervous giggles of Fishlegs. But Hiccup didn't care.

It would take him another two years to fulfill his vow from the dining hall that night, and when he did it was for reasons he would never have dreamed. He did not hate his father for longer than a week, and eventually the numbness from the words he'd overheard subsided.

He admitted that Snotlout's advice was the smartest thing he'd ever heard him say, and, very likely, ever would.


	4. Broken Wings

To be honest, the reason I chose the prompt table I did was because it had this one in it. TOO PERFECT TO PASS UP.  
The ending's a bit choppy, but other than that I'm pleased with it. But DAMN is it hard to write interactions between two characters of the same gender. Hopefully you can tell which "he/him/his" is which.

–

"_TOOTHLESS_!"

Hiccup was vaguely surprised by how loud his voice had suddenly become. The snow was slicing through the air in droves, soaking easily through his thick layers of clothes. The blizzard was fearsome, blotting out everything but the crumpled black shape nearby.

The fall had not been from a great height. If it had been, they would both certainly be dead. Hiccup didn't know how it had happened, really. He thought maybe his prosthetic had slipped out of its stirrup from the ice, or the wind had blown Toothless askew.

As he had been tumbling through the blankness, his mind asunder from fear, he felt Toothless' wings pull him inward; felt his thick scaly arms enveloping him. When they hit the ground, the impact ripped him from the embrace of his beast, and he smashed through the snow three times before at last coming to rest. Through his dully ringing ears, he heard a cry of agony like none he ever had, and it tore his heart to shreds.

He had raised his head from the snow, and it was easily one of the most difficult things he'd ever had to do. The cold was caked around his face, instantly freezing his hot tears of pain.

_Toothless._

_Where was Toothless?_

He looked around him, attempting to deduce where he was, but there were no trees, no landmarks of any kind. Just infinite white. As he pushed himself up by his arms he felt an electric blue pain jolt through the left one, which led him to collapse with a yelp.

As if in response to his cry, he heard a weak crooning from somewhere nearby. He pulled his head from the snow and squinted, able to distinguish a black shape several feet away.

The dragon's name sprung distraughtly from his lips as he dragged himself toward it.

His left arm was jerked at a peculiar angle and hung at his side as though unhinged. Each tug forward proved more and more trying, and his teeth gritted with the effort.

At last, he found himself only a foot or so away from his Night Fury. The dragon was curled on his side, his breathing slow and labored; it took everything for Hiccup not to avert his eyes at the sight of the bloodied, crooked wing sticking out like a battle flag.

"Toothless," he croaked, crawling clumsily forward on his good arm. "Oh, gods almighty, _Toothless_..."

The dragon's eyes flickered open at the sound of his name, and he lifted his head barely to gaze at Hiccup. The pain in the otherworldly green depths of his eyes was almost too much for Hiccup to bear.

_I did this._

"You're alive," Hiccup rasped gratefully, gently placing his free hand on Toothless' snout. Toothless perked up and feebly nodded against Hiccup's touch, panting and purring and wheezing.

"It's okay, bud; I'm here. We're good." Hiccup screwed up every bit of strength in his body to speak. "You'll be okay. I promise."

Toothless let out a weak, dismissive huff, nuzzling Hiccup as the boy wrapped his arms around his great scaly neck.

Hiccup shivered against him, hardly able to feel past his torso. Toothless chuffed worriedly and shifted around him, and out of the corner of his eye Hiccup saw the Night Fury begin to bend his wing as if to wrap it around him.

"No, don't!" Hiccup started to yell, but it was too late – the dragon let out a howl of anguish and flinched enormously.

He looked at Hiccup and attempted to close his wings again, but was met with the same consequences. Again he tried it, and again, and soon he was flailing in fright and confusion and his sorrowful eyes were falling desperately on Hiccup and he whined plaintively, louder and louder.

"Stop it, buddy!" Hiccup begged him. "Stop it! _STOP_!"

Toothless paid him no heed, continuing to flap and spasm and whimper in agony and alarm.

Hiccup lifted his right arm with a hard grimace and used it to pull himself closer to Toothless, closer to his palpitating heart, to scratch at that little spot beneath his chin that he knew was the only way to help him.

Toothless shuddered at the touch and then went limp, and his breathing slowed – still shallow, but at least rhythmic.

"There, boy," Hiccup breathed hoarsely, pushing his tears deep inside him. "Don't be afraid. It's okay." He laid himself down in the snow beside Toothless, closing his eyes in enervation. "It's... okay."

–

The gods had blessed Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III by giving him the love of such a fretful girl as Astrid. She and her Nadder set out to look for Hiccup and Toothless after realizing that they had not returned after fifteen minutes past the time they had planned on. Bundled in furs and with her head bowed against the snow, she was still able to spot a black shape in the whiteness below her, and she and the Nadder landed to find both Viking and dragon alive.

They had not crashed far from Berk, so with a little help from the villagers and the other dragons, Toothless was able to be transported back to the village before he had even awakened. The moment Hiccup regained consciousness, he ignored his broken arm and his missing prosthetic and his severe cold and leapt from bed to splint and mend Toothless' wing, and by Thor, he managed it, and when spring came the clear blue sky was not devoid of the soaring black blur and the whooping teenager upon it.

"You owe me one," Astrid had growled, and he had squeezed her hand and smiled.


	5. Melody

I literally pulled that poem out of my tailbone so it is A PILE OF WORTHLESSNESS. I beg forgiveness. BEG IT.

–

Hiccup confessed that he never grew tired of praising Astrid.

It didn't matter if someone mentioned her or not; the largest amount of his words spoken in conversation revolved around her. Sometimes he'd start going at it so excitedly that whoever he was talking to would take a few cautious steps back, hoping to not be blamed for a seemingly imminent heart attack he was sure to eventually suffer.

Hiccup didn't care, though. He didn't care about the awkward glances people would send his way or the clucking tongues of the more practical women of the village or the fact that he was fairly certain she very rarely spoke about him.

"She's a goddess, Gobber," he said dreamily at work one day, completely inattentive to the sharpening wheel before him.

"Yeh don' say," Gobber grunted back monotonously, not interested in the slightest.

"I _do_ say." The grin on Hiccup's face was almost… _goofy_. It made Gobber a little nauseous. "Astrid is the most beautiful thing on the face of this earth."

"Tha's nice," Gobber responded, picking at his teeth with his metal hand.

"I'm going to marry her, Gobber."

"Wonderful."

"I'm going to marry her and we're going to have kids and they're probably all going to kick me before they can even walk—"

"Hiccup," Gobber interjected suddenly, slamming his hand down on the table in front of him. "This is all well an' lovely an' I got tears in me eyes at the beau'y of it an' all tha', but fer Odin's _sake_, boy, does _she_ know all o' this?"

Hiccup blinked at him, looking a bit perturbed.

"Buh," he flummoxed. "W-well, uh, sure. I mean, sure she does. How couldn't she?"

"Have yeh ever _told _'er?" Gobber pressed him, astounded at how shockingly thick teenagers were nowadays. "Has she ever _heard_ the words comin' ou'a yer mouth right now?"

Hiccup's mouth opened and closed several times and Gobber noted how eerily similar he looked to some of the floundering fish he'd catch in the spring.

"I, um," Hiccup said. "Not... _directly_..."

Gobber smacked a hand to his forehead and ran it down over his face in exasperation.

"Hammer of Thor, yer as bad as yer father," he groaned.

Hiccup's cheeks momentarily puffed defensively.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"That yer thick as the trees growin' in Raven's Point an' then some, yeh little git. Yeh've been babblin' on an' on 'bout that girl the way me mum used ter babble 'bout knittin'. But what good's it gonna do yeh if the one yer on about 'asn't 'eard a word of it?"

Hiccup considered him momentarily, but Gobber could still tell his attempts at explanation were thus far unsuccessful.

"Go an' tell 'er, Hiccup," he begged him. "Go an' tell _her_, an' then maybe yeh'll calm down enough ter quit tellin' _me_, an' everyone yeh happen to walk by in the mornin'."

"I..." Hiccup fidgeted anxiously. "I... can't."

Gobber stared at him, deadpan.

"Yeh _can't_."

"I can't."

"Yeh... _can't_."

"I can't!"

"Yeh _CAN'T_."

"I can't!" Hiccup shouted suddenly, a bit more furiously than Gobber had expected. "I can't, I can't, I can't, _I can't_! I've tried! I've tried a hundred times, but it all sounds so _stupid_ when I try to say it to her, and it comes out all wrong, and then I just end up looking like an idiot!"

"Yeh _are_ an idiot."

"Thank you for summing that up."

"No problem," Gobber said, scratching his belly. "Bu' if yeh can't _speak_ 'em, yeh just gotta find some other way to tell 'er."

"What, like a poem or something?" Hiccup laughed derisively.

"Tha'," Gobber shrugged, "or a song."

Hiccup stiffened.

"A _song_?"

"O' course, yeh twiggy fishbone. Tha' was how yer father proposed t' yer mother, an' tha' was how I told me wife tha' I loved 'er, an' the way it's lookin' that's probably how Fishlegs is gonna try'n get his meaty paws on Ruffnut. It's an art, Hiccup. An' it works every time."

"Yeah, it worked great, Gobber. My mom died and your wife left for another island to the South," Hiccup said bitterly, turning away from Gobber.

"Well, I must say I wasn' expectin' this conversation t' turn so sour," Gobber snapped. "Bu' if yeh wanna keep goin' aroun' like some drunken li'l Terror who doesn't know left from righ', be my guest. Don' say I didn' try'n help yeh, though."

There was a silence, and Hiccup let out a great sigh before turning around to Gobber again.

"It just feels like it's too good to be true, Gobber. I don't want to mess it up by saying something stupid."

"Well, yeh can't avoid tha'; love is stupid an' it always has been."

Hiccup huffed in frustration.

"Gobber, I don't know if she's even _close_ to loving me as much as I love her. She still has to throw a punch my way before she kisses me!"

"Well, she'll probably ne'er stop doin' tha'." Gobber chuckled.

"You don't understand! She's practically beauty incarnate and I'm a walking toothpick! Pretty soon she'll come around and see that Snotlout's got a lot more going for him than I do and then I'll end up living the rest of my days in a cave somewhere with no company but my dragon and my old age!"

"Oh, quit yer whinin', yeh silly ol' _woman_," Gobber snorted. "With all tha' moanin' yeh'd think yeh were Fishlegs."

"_Gobber_," Hiccup said as calmly as he could. "I'm not _good_ enough for her. And as soon as I open my big mouth, she'll realize it."

Gobber sighed, tugging thoughtfully at the braids of his beard, squinting one eye at Hiccup, who was drooping sorrowfully behind the sharpening wheel, looking the way the Night Fury did on a rainy afternoon.

"Take my advice, Hiccup," he began.

"Do I have to?" Hiccup grimaced.

"Yes," Gobber snapped back. "Now then... go si' down at yer workbench righ' now, pull ou' one o' those silly drawin' books o' yours, an' write down everythin' yeh wanna say to Astrid but can't. Then when yeh go home t'nigh', look it over, an' if yeh don' come back here tomorrow with a few lines of a song, yer fired."

Hiccup gaped pitifully at him, and Gobber grinned smugly. That was a good plan.

–

_I dreamed a dream of Valisblot,_

_I dreamed a dream I flew;_

_I dreamed these dreams and they begot_

_a dream I dreamed of you._

_You were passing, fair and white,_

_among the lupines blue,_

_and when you smiled in the light,_

_the spring was born anew._

_Beneath your fingers, stardust-hewn,_

_the grasses blew and twirled;_

_your lips were white beneath the moon,_

_your golden hair unfurled._

_Be you goddess, be you dream,_

_be you a fairy gay,_

_when your soft eyes begin to gleam,_

_this world... it falls away._

_You are my vision; I your fool,_

_you wake and I can soar—_

_**Dude, this is totally sappy; I think I'm gonna barf.**_

_**Oh, oh! I know what you can rhyme with soar!**_

_**No, Lout. I already know what you're going to say and I—**_

_**"WHORE."**_

_**...NO.**_

_You are my vision; I your fool,_

_you wake and I am whole._

_Within your arms my poor heart pools,_

_and your grace I extol._

_A poet I have never been;_

_Thor knows I am not brave._

_There is nothing great within,_

_no pirate, prince, or knave._

_But you – you are perfection,_

_but you – you are a song._

_Your voice… strike divine inflection…/strike __**gives me an erection.**_

_**NO, SNOTLOUT. NO.**_

_But you – you are perfection,_

_but you – you are a song._

_Your voice… divine inflection…_

_your touch… there I belong._

_This love I carry for you_

_is one that cannot die_

_and all I'll ever ask of you_

_is that you let me try_

_to hold you close and kiss you,_

_to prove that I am bold;_

_to anger you and miss you,_

_to warm you in the cold,_

_to take your hand in mine one day,_

_to say you are the one,_

_and when the gods may have their way,_

_to lift you to the sun._

_I know I've been a foolish boy;_

_I know I've made you mad._

_I hope I've given you some joy…_

_that I've not made you sad._

_I know there's not much else to say,_

_but I know one thing the best:_

_each evening and each waking day,_

_I know that I am blessed._

_Love is such a fickle thing._

_Your love has put me on a string._

_In days before I'd twist and tarry._

_In days to come I pray we'll marry._

_(This is stupid._

_Gods help me.)_

–

Hiccup was reasonably good at many things, but playing the lyre was not one of them.

The village was doing an excellent job at concealing their anguished grimaces as he strummed at the instrument and made some noises that could vaguely be considered singing, if one was either deaf or extremely kind.

Gobber had set up the entire spectacle, so that all the village could watch as Hiccup (and many other lovelorn lads) could profess their adoration to the women they planned to marry. Hiccup hadn't had any idea that writing a silly song for Astrid equated to any sort of... _commitment._

Right now, as he gazed earnestly at her among his lyre-plucking and song-squawking, she was sitting on a log with her hands folded in her lap, the firelight playing off her long blonde braid and stormy eyes. Her expression gave nothing away – Hiccup honestly could not tell if she was impressed, repulsed, or amused beyond help. All he could really do was plow his way through the song as calmly as possible, praying to the gods that he wasn't making an utter fool of himself.

"In days before I'd twist and tarry..." _PWANG._ "In days to come I pray we'll..."

His throat immediately went dry, and he stiffened as severely as a cadaver with rigor mortis. He couldn't do this. OH, GODS, HE COULDN'T DO THIS; HE COULDN'T—

"Marry?" Astrid's voice surprised him so immensely he briefly thought she hadn't spoken. "It's marry, Hiccup."

He gawked at her.

"How did you kn—?"

"Just sing it. Finish it," she hissed threateningly.

He scrambled back onto the lyre and strummed it dissonantly. "In days to come I pray we'll marry."

The music (if one could call it that) drifted to a stop, and all eyes in the village rested on Astrid, who tossed her bangs out of her eyes and pursing her lips thoughtfully for a moment before standing up, grabbing Hiccup by the collar of his shirt, and kissing him passionately.

_By gods_, Hiccup thought giddily. _Gobber was right. It works._

The villagers cheered.


	6. Rules

I don't know how this one became so monstrous, but it did. And MY _**GOD**_, was that war scene between Hiccup and Fishlegs hard to write. It was extraordinarily difficult for me to figure out what would make Hiccup say that it was actually good to kill people sometimes, because I've always seen him as a pacifist who would never _want_ to hurt anybody, but would sometimes have to. Same with Fishlegs. I hope I did it all right; I really do.

Also you guys can't yell at me for skipping a day because this one's three times longer than the normal ones so ha.

–

"Welcome to Dragon Training!"

Hiccup swore he was going to faint.

"Now then! Stop yer cowerin' an' line up in front o' me. Before yeh get started, there's a few things we'll need ter go over."

Snotlout groaned as loudly and blatantly as possible.

"A lot o' people gen'rally don' believe me when I tell 'em this, but Dragon Training, unlike most things we Vikings do, has _rules_."

The twins blew derisive raspberries.

"Rules o' combat! Rules of honor! An' most important, rules o' conduct!"

"Conduct?" Snolout wailed in disbelief. "Dude, we're just gonna be killing a bunch of dragons! Since when was there _conduct_ for _killing stuff_?"

"Since shut up! Now, yeh'd all best pay attention, because this is the _only time_ you'll be hearin' me say these!"

Astrid straightened at attention.

"Rule number one!" A single burly finger shot up into the sky. "There is no crying in dragon-training!"

"Ah! Well, guess Hiccup's already gonna be breaking rules right and left, then!" Snotlout snickered, sending a jeer Hiccup's way. Hiccup ignored him. "Fighting the law, Useless. Fighting the _law_."

"Rule number two!" Two fingers now. "_Show. No. Mercy_."

"I can handle that," Tuffnut snickered pompously, puffing out his chest.

"Rule number three!" Gobber sent a threatening scowl Tuffnut's way. "Be brave a' all times, lest yeh be embarrassed beyond repair!"

"Dude, you're completely screwed; I'm just saying," Snotlout hissed to Hiccup with a smirk. Hiccup drooped under the weight of his axe.

"Rule number four! You do _not_ leave a comrade t' die!"

_Unless it's me. If it's me, it's all good; they can let me die_, Hiccup thought with an inward whimper.

Snotlout seemed to have a similar idea.

"What if it's Hiccup? Then is it okay?"

Tuffnut and Ruffnut burst into peals of laughter. Hiccup winced.

"A comrade is a comrade," Astrid said crisply, and that shut Snotlout up efficiently enough.

"An' _tha'_," Gobber plowed on, "leads us t' th' fifth and final rule. If you are presented with _any_ opportunity t' rescue a comrade in danger... yeh _do_ it! Risk yer life if yeh have to; jus' don' die! Be'er we save two injured lives than lose one completely."

Hiccup looked around him at the five other Viking teens. They were just the same as he was – well… no, not so much, except in terms of age. He'd known the majority of them since they were all of suckling age.

As much as he despised the amount of delight they seemed to find in deriding him, he silently swore to all of them right then that if any of them was ever cornered in the heat of battle, he would do everything in his power to save them.

(Except Snotlout. Especially Astrid.)

He knew they wouldn't do the same for him, but there it was.

–

He vaguely remembered awakening on the boat after the battle with the Green Death and seeing Astrid crying.

She was sitting against the wall, curled around her knees, her head bowed, her shoulders convulsing with silent sobs.

"Are you... are you _crying_?"

Her head jerked up and her eyes darted straight into his, and it was like he'd had the wind knocked out of him.

"Of course not," she replied a bit too quickly, furiously wiping her cheeks and trying to be as subtle as possible in sniffling. "There's no crying in dragon-training. That was the first rule. I'd think you'd remember, stupid."

"You can break the rules every once in a while, Astrid," he said softly.

She looked away.

–

The Thunderdrum loomed liltingly in front of Hiccup, its breath hot and stinging, its yellow eyes glistening with a burning the young Viking knew he did not want to feed.

It snorted threateningly at him, and even that made Hiccup just a little bit queasy.

His knees quivered. He wasn't entirely sure if he could do this. This dragon was different from the others. There was probably a significant part of it that wanted to kill him.

His hearing was already a little shot from the first growl of the Thunderdrum, but he was able to hear a dull, slow echo in his ears. He glanced to his side and saw Ruffnut standing beside her twin, her pale eyes fixed fiercely, expectantly on him.

"Be brave, idiot," she was saying. "Be brave." Tuffnut nodded vigorously.

Hiccup swallowed and turned back to the dragon and fell to his knees, extending his hand.

It sniffed it, and Hiccup heard a rumble in its throat. He had to contain a whimper as it shuffled forward slightly, snuffling in his hair and shoulder and clothes and face.

He kept his eyes away from it. He was not a predator.

"It's okay," he whispered.

The Thunderdrum huffed before butting his hand with its head and purring happily.

(Unfortunately, even that was enough to knock Hiccup unconscious.)

–

Fishlegs inhaled deeply, his tiny heart snapping fast in his chest. He had prayed that he'd never live to see a war come to Berk, but the gods had not heeded his pleas.

A Berserker. That was what his mother had told him he was, on the inside, somewhere dark and horrible and buried down so deep he'd hoped he'd never have to find it.

"When you go into battle, Fishlegs, and may Odin grant me you never do, the Berserker in you will come alive like the fire on a Monstrous Nightmare, and you will show them no mercy."

Fishlegs had been afraid of himself ever since. _No mercy_. He never wanted those words to be associated with him, and the things he did.

"I'm not a monster," he whispered, his tiny legs shaking beneath his furs. The cries of the war raged around him, and he wanted to cry a little, just for a second. He curled up behind the chunk of wall where he was hiding and sniffled.

"Legs?" Fishlegs gave a start and looked around wildly. It was Hiccup running toward him, blood streaming from his nose and arm. He was holding nothing but a shield. Leave it to Hiccup. He never used weapons unless he had to. Fishlegs looked forlornly at the enormous axe in his hand.

"You okay?" Hiccup murmured, verdant eyes focusing worriedly on Fishlegs.

Fishlegs nodded. "Y-yeah, I'm okay."

Hiccup frowned, not entirely convinced.

"Hiccup, I..." Fishlegs' voice cracked, from tears or terror he did not know. "I... don't want to kill people." He choked on that sentence, trying to keep from doubling over from sobs.

Hiccup let out a soft sigh and put one scrawny hand on Fishlegs' shoulder.

"None of us do," he said. Fishlegs couldn't believe how much they'd grown up since that day he'd ridden the Gronckle. All of them. He heard the deadly war cry of Astrid somewhere in the confusion, and the snarls of the twins nearby, and the shouting of Snotlout from his Monstrous Nightmare high in the sky.

"'Member..." Fishlegs gulped. "...'member how you said that... we didn't have to kill dragons? That we could... live in peace with them?"

Hiccup nodded solemnly.

"Why can't people be like that?" Fishlegs whimpered.

"Some are," Hiccup told him, squeezing his shoulder. "But... some aren't. Not everyone can be like we were with the dragons."

"I know, b-but..." Fishlegs' voice trailed off. "M-my mom told me I'm... I'm a _Berserker_. That if I go out there..." He shuddered violently. "I'll... I'll _kill them all_."

"Fishlegs," Hiccup said, as strongly as he could, and he crouched in front of his friend, his eyes hard with conviction. "I'm not going to lie to you and say killing makes you a good person. But it doesn't make you a bad one, either. Sometimes..." He grimaced, obviously pained by the truth of his words. "Sometimes... to protect what we love... what we care about... we..." He couldn't finish. "I don't want to hurt them either. I tried talking with one of them, but he wouldn't listen. Toothless and I have been flying around up there for hours, just trying to do damage to their ships and their catapults. I can't make myself do anything beyond that. I just can't. I'll never be able to."

"Hiccup," Fishlegs croaked, "I'm_ scared_. Of... of what I_ am_; of... of_ this_..."

"We'll be okay, Legs. We'll all be okay. I know it feels horrible to know the sort of things you'll do if you go out there and fight, but... the longer you hide from them, the worse they're going to get."

"I thought you didn't want us to kill people!" Fishlegs suddenly shouted. "I thought you said that death should _never_ be used as a method of defense! NEVER! Not even as a last resort! You said that was why you couldn't kill Toothless! Because you knew it was wrong!"

Hiccup bowed his head, eyes downcast. "I killed the Green Death."

Fishlegs sniffled. "Yeah. Why?"

"Because I had to! To protect you and Ruff and Tuff and Snotlout and Astrid and the village and Toothless and – EVERYONE! That thing would've killed us all! Fishlegs, I... I can't even come _close_ to trying to... to _justify_ this for you. For anyone. For me, even! But there are some people – some dragons – you just can't find good in! And you have to do something, or they'll... they'll...!"

Hiccup choked on his words and Fishlegs thought for one horrifying moment that the other Viking was going to cry, but he didn't – he breathed deeply and put his face in his hands and sighed.

"Where's your Gronckle?"

"I hid him," Fishlegs squeaked. "So they wouldn't kill him. So he wouldn't get hurt."

"Go get him," Hiccup commanded, and then come into the skies with me and Toothless. We'll get some more of their catapults. You won't have to hurt anyone."

"O-okay."

"I'll meet you back here in five minutes." And then, just like that, he was gone.

Fishlegs took a shaky breath and got to his feet, glaring ferociously in determination, and began to run over to his house.

Suddenly, he heard a scream behind him.

He turned, in one fluid sweep, to see Ruffnut being held by the braids by one of the brutes from the opposing sides. He was raising a sword above her, his dark eyes decisive. Ruffnut was snarling and writhing like a murderous cat, but the soldier's grip was too firm. She let out a horrible shriek as he prepared to drive the sword through her chest.

Fishlegs didn't know what happened. He never would. The world was red and pulsing in time with his heart, his now-enormous heart, and everything moved in blurs and silence. He flew at the soldier only half-aware of his arm swinging the axe so it sliced a great gash through the offender's flesh, of Ruffnut's horrified expression as he did so, of the battle as it waged and roared and murdered around him.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!" he bellowed in a voice not of his own, and the man fell to the ground unmoving.

Ruffnut's arms were suddenly around his burly neck, and he swore he heard the quietest of sobs come from her throat before she leapt off of him and charged back into the fray.

_Show no mercy._

He never killed again.

–

"Run, Hiccup!"

"No!" Hiccup whispered harshly back, standing firmly opposite the fearsome, bloodthirsty Skrill. Its filmy white eyes pierced him, its hundreds of sharp yellow teeth glistening in the moonlight.

"You go!" he muttered to Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Fishlegs, and – gods – Astrid. "_Go_, before it changes its mind!"

His peers remained rooted to their places, knowing they could never let Hiccup be consumed in their stead, but too terrified to think of the consequences that would arise if they stayed. The Skrill would surely kill one of them.

Its island was gray and bleak, and the salty waters around it stung on contact.

Nobody noticed, but Astrid was holding her breath.

"Guys!" Hiccup hissed ferociously. "Go now! I'll really be fine! I don't want any of you to get hurt!" He paused. "Except you, Snotlout. You can get hurt. Just don't die or anything."

Snotlout snorted and rolled his eyes almost... fondly.

The Skrill hissed, long and sizzling, its spittle spraying onto Hiccup's face. He didn't dare brush it off.

The creature smelled dark and dank and of places filled with dead things and nightmares.

"But you don't have a weapon," Fishlegs whispered.

"I really can't afford to talk right now." Hiccup's voice was as quiet as it could possible be while still being audible. "Please, guys. Just go. I don't know if I'd be able to forgive myself if Beauty here ate your innards."

Snotlout considered this momentarily – considered simply turning around and fleeing, unharmed. But then, as it often did, Gobber's growling voice came back to haunt him:

_Rule number four! You do not leave a comrade t' die! And if you are presented with any opportunity t' rescue a comrade in danger... yeh do it! Risk yer life if yeh have to; jus' don' die! Tha'd be unpleasant._

The Skrill suddenly stiffened and sniffed the air, its empty eyes focusing somewhere in Snotlout's direction. Snotlout froze. It could smell the blade in his pocket.

It let out a horrible scream like the night itself dying and reared back before leaping at Snotlout, who let out a strangled cry of terror.

"No!" Hiccup thundered, and Snotlout cowered in spite of himself.

He closed his eyes tightly, preparing for the feeling of teeth tearing into his flesh, but instead he heard the creature let out another cry, and then felt a rush of wind as its wings swooped away from him.

He heard Astrid scream out: "Hiccup!"

Hiccup had grabbed a rock and thrown it at the beast in hopes of distracting it, and his plan had worked, albeit too well. The Skrill was now upon him, pinning him to the ground and hissing murderously. Hiccup didn't struggle in its grip, knowing that would only make it angrier.

He scrambled for an idea, any idea; a way out of the Skrill's talons. It hit him in a horrible, chest-smashing moment: there wasn't one.

"Don't be afraid," he said, more to himself than the dragon.

The Skrill craned its head back, and Hiccup could smell the poisonous gas gathering in its throat.

Somewhere in the edge of his hearing, he discerned five battle-like cries, and suddenly – bafflingly – the creature's weight was lifted from him, the same way the Monstrous Nightmare had left him when Toothless had tackled it off.

He dared to open his eyes.

The twins were driving punches into the Skrill's sides; Fishlegs was pounding it with a great wooden club; Snotlout had his hands clamping its mouth shut; and Astrid was charging at it with a frenzied scream, her axe raised over her shoulder.

The Skrill writhed about and Snotlout let out a cry of pain as a venomous fang tore his forearm. Ruffnut was knocked aside by the force; Tuffnut yelled out for her; Fishlegs smashed it hard across the back with his club.

Astrid brought the axe down with such force Hiccup swore all he saw was a silver blur and a faint splatter of blood before the Skrill let out a screech so gruesome he felt sick.

When Hiccup dared to look again, the Skrill was crumpled and limp, its eyes still wide open.

Snotlout let out a groan and toppled off the head of the beast, clutching his arm and hissing in pain. Tuffnut was helping his sister off the ground she'd been tossed upon, and with all the fussing he was doing and the grateful smiling she was doing back, Hiccup could've sworn they cared about each other.

Astrid spat on the ground, wiping the splatter of purple Skrill blood from her face, tossing her bangs aside.

Hiccup managed to make it to his feet, albeit weakly, and he scrambled over to Snotlout's side, grabbing his arm immediately.

Gods, he didn't know what he'd do if Snotlout died because of him.

"How deep is it?" It was a rhetorical question and Snotlout knew it, so he didn't bother answering as Hiccup inspected the wound. It was already beginning to turn a nasty shade of green, and an odd mixture of blood and bubbles was oozing from it.

"It's literally starting to boil your blood," Hiccup mumbled, and Snotlout stiffened.

"_What_?" he croaked weakly.

"It's okay. It's fixable if we work fast." Hiccup whipped around to face the rest, who were standing at attention already. "Tuffnut. Ruffnut. Go get some of that water and bring it here. Maybe tear off a bit of fabric from your vest and soak the water up in it." The twins nodded and rushed off toward the banks of the island. "Fishlegs. I'll need you to bind the wound in a minute; I'm terrible at stuff like that." Fishlegs gulped and nodded, fidgeting. Hiccup turned to Astrid, who knelt beside him, putting one hand on his.

He swallowed.

"Astrid... I'll need you to suck the venom out. I can't, because it breathed some of the gas on me, and that would only make it worse if I had contact with the cut." Astrid stiffened in alarm at the bit about him being breathed on. "No, no; don't worry; I'll be fine. I just need you t—"

"Heard you the first time," Astrid replied crisply, nudging Hiccup out of the way before beginning to suck Snotlout's wound dry. She spat the venom and blood aside.

Snotlout grinned in gratitude. "Hey, babe; that's..." He winced. "Not the only part of me you can suck, you know."

Astrid smacked him on the forehead and shook her head at him, concealing her fond smile well.

Hiccup tore a ream of fabric from his tunic and handed it to Fishlegs. "That'll be the bandage," he said, and Fishlegs' face hardened.

"I'm not a big fan of blood," he whispered aside to Hiccup.

"Yeah," Hiccup agreed, "neither am I."

"Oh, grow up, you wimps." Ruffnut's voice snapped over as she and Tuffnut returned with vests soaked in seawater.

"Thanks," Hiccup told them, taking the vests. They grunted in return.

Between Astrid's sucks, Hiccup would press the water-laden cloths to Snotlout's arm, resulting in sharp hisses of pain each time.

"It's cleaning it; that's why," Hiccup explained. "Most books say that water around islands where Skrills live is the best for cleaning wounds, especially poisonous ones, because it has this chemical in it that—"

"Don't care," Snotlout grumbled frankly. Hiccup muttered something back but kept dabbing at the cut.

Eventually they finished, and Snotlout, though still enervated, seemed to be in higher spirits, making his normal amount of suave passes at Astrid and receiving his normal amount of physical beatings for them. The six Vikings boarded their boat and rowed back to the island of Berk, their backs and arms aching but their fortitude unyielding.

At one point, Hiccup briefly stopped his rowing and gazed at each of his peers in turn, realizing he was still shivering a little from the encounter with the Skrill.

"Th-thanks, guys," he murmured, his voice more filled with acknowledgment than they'd ever heard it. "For... for saving me back there."

"Fifth rule." Snotlout cracked a dry smile at his cousin, scratching his arm as it rested in its makeshift sling.

"Rules are stupid," Ruffnut declared.

"No, you're stupid," Tuffnut sneered at her.

"No, _you're_ stupid!"

"No, your _mom'_s stupid!"

"My mom's _your_ mom, idiot!"

"Don't you talk that way about my mother!"

"Hey! Get your gross hands off of me, butt-elf! I'll have to bathe like twenty times just to get rid of your smell!"

"Argh! You scratched me in the eye!"

"You elbowed me in the boob!"

Hiccup laughed for the first time in what felt like ages as he watched his friends.

...

_His friends._


	7. Chocolate

Wooo, another day-late response! Ah, sorry guys, sorry; I have actually been spending my weekend doing more than just sitting around like a dork. As the week picks up, I'll probably be doing more prompts, simply because SCHOOL'S BORING and I have more time than I know what to do with. (That's probably going to change, so I'm relishing it while I can.)

Also, CHOCOLATE. ROCKS. SO HARD.

–

Astrid wrinkled her nose so severely at the chunk in her hand that Hiccup thought for a second her face might cave in.

"What... _is_ this?" she asked, sounding completely disgusted, squinting suspiciously at it.

"Just try it." Hiccup smiled encouragingly. "It's delicious. Trust me."

She narrowed her eyes doubtfully at him, and Hiccup couldn't entirely blame her, because the last time he'd asked her to trust him, she'd wound up being tossed around in the air by his mischievous dragon.

"You still haven't answered my question, and I'm giving you until the count of three to do it," she snarled, holding up a fist.

Even after an entire year, Hiccup would still cower under the presence of that thing.

"Would saying that it's a secret be... detrimental to my well-being?" He chuckled nervously.

She nodded slowly, not moving her fist.

"One," she snapped.

"I'm serious; just _try_ it!"

"Two."

"It'd ruin the fun if I just told you now!"

"_Three_."

As she pulled back in preparation for knocking his teeth out, he leapt aside and, in a maneuver that he would boast about for countless years to come, knocked her arm down with one hand and shoved the dark brown chunk into her mouth with the other.

She squawked and stumbled backwards, astounded. Cautiously, she began to chew it (Hiccup couldn't help but take notice of how murderously she did so, either), still holding herself in an attack stance just in case.

After a moment, though, her eyes widened and her shoulders sagged and she let out a loud, wondrous, "_mmmm_!"

"Shhh!" Hiccup hissed. "Keep that... moaning down. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea."

"Hiccup," Astrid exclaimed through her mouthful. "This is _ambrosia_! Gods almighty, tell me what it is, or I'll knock your other leg off!"

To prove her point, she lifted her foot to kick him.

"Okay, okay!" Hiccup yelped, bounding away from her. He grinned. "It's called chocolate."

At the sound of the word, a previously-sleeping Toothless popped his head up from its cradle in his front legs and looked around excitedly. Hiccup had honestly thought that putting him by the hearth would keep him subdued, but no such luck. (Hiccup had a fireplace in his bedroom, being the Chief's son and all that. He felt extraordinarily happy about it, mostly because whenever Astrid wanted to seek warmth, she'd have to do it in his room.)

Astrid raised her eyebrow at the creature. "I'm... guessing he's had experience with this?"

"Yes. Well, no. Well... yes." Hiccup fidgeted. "I mean, don't tell my dad or anything, but I've been feeding him tons of it."

"No wonder the Gronckles are starting to look thin compared to him," Astrid remarked dryly. Toothless whipped around and stared at her, offended. "Well, it's true."

After a moment's pause, she strode over to Hiccup, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and drove her lips into his. Hiccup always marveled at how, no matter how forceful her kisses were, her mouth was still impossibly soft.

She tasted delicious. Well, more delicious than usual.

He shuddered a little, grinning beneath her lips, before she came off with a smack and, tightening her grip on his shirt, gazing at him with the wide eyes of a woman addicted before whispering: "_do you have any more_?"


	8. Nostalgia

Nothing much to say on this one, really! It's nice and short.

**Tomorrow's Prompt: **_**Heartbeat**_

–

As the sunlight warmed his spirit and the wind lifted him to the sky, Hiccup remembered.

Toothless rumbled joyfully beneath him, his wings like sails in the summer gusts, and Hiccup closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of the air; the wild, rampant air, untamed and unbridled and unimaginably beautiful.

"Do you remember, bud?" he whispered, and Toothless glanced back at him and nodded his great black head, a smile playing across his reptilian lips. Hiccup lifted his head to the open sky above and ahead of and below them. "I do, too."

The day of his first flight with the Night Fury returned to his memory like a leaf borne on the autumn breeze. The call of the blue beyond the clouds pulled them like birds through the daylight; as they soared and swerved and tumbled in unison, Hiccup felt his heart beating with the beast's, and felt himself change as he had never changed before and never would again.

Even when his feet had slipped from the stirrups and he and the dragon had plummeted pell-mell through the heart-wrenching terror of clear nothingness, he had known that nothing could stop them. When he had found himself back on the saddle and had guided Toothless through the ocean rocks the same way he would guide his hand in a dream, he had known no greater exhilaration, no greater triumph, no greater pride in himself.

_He had never felt so immensely proud of... himself. Himself, of all things in the world. _

Astrid was right when she had called Toothless amazing, even if it was an incredible understatement. No words seemed immense enough to encompass what Toothless was... what Toothless meant to him... what an incredible being he thought Toothless was.

"Best friend" was as close as he would ever come.

That was seventy years ago now, and soon, he knew, he would go like all those before him, would slip away from the mortal world and ascend into the skies of Valhalla, into Astrid's waiting arms.

He hoped one day Toothless would be there, too.

Raising his fists to the sky as he had on that same day so many years ago, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III let out a joyous whoop, and it echoed through the skies and the seas and the cliffs and the islands, and he swore all the world could hear him.


	9. Heartbeat

**Heartbeat**

Inspired by Florence + The Machine's "Cosmic Love."

_And in the dark, I can feel your heartbeat..._

Oh, and I encourage all of you to visit my profile and contribute to the poll I put up! It's just asking what your favorite story in the series has been so far; it's nice and simple. It would really help me to know which one you liked best so that I can write more in the style of that one. Just visit my profile to find the poll; it should be right at the top of the page. Thanks!

**Disclaimer:**_**How to Train Your Dragon**_** in no way belongs to me, nor do any elements, characters, or events therein. This project is solely fan-based, and I claim no ownership to the film or its characters. The only things of my own creation are the stories. **

**Tomorrow's Prompt: **_**Stranger**_

–

Astrid was spellbound as the stars fell like fireflies around her.

The aurora borealis lifted its billowing skirts over her head; the clouds skirted around her cheeks as she drifted through them. The night was like water, and she was floating in it.

She lifted her arms into the sky as she did every time, and shivered as the clouds skimmed over her fingertips; she gazed into the endless indigo around her and sighed, long and soft.

This was freedom. This was beauty.

It never lost its magnitude, flying with Hiccup through the limitless stardust and moonlight. She knew it never would.

She had never seen the stars until he had shown them to her. On that night a year ago, she had felt herself change, in a way so quiet she hardly noticed it until she placed her lips on his cheek in the darkness of the cove.

Hiccup turned his head to gaze at her, a practice he never tired of. Her braid was iridescent in the moonlight and twisted behind her like a cloak. The stars above were like freckles in her ardent eyes. The smile on her lips would dim the sun itself, he was certain.

And she was his.

He felt her heart beating into his back as she pressed herself to him, embracing him, resting her chin on his shoulder. His body pulsed in unison with it.

"I can feel your heartbeat," he murmured. She blinked and her eyes glanced aside at him. He laughed. "Sorry. Awkward."

Astrid beamed and squeezed him gently in her arms.

"I can feel you blushing," she retorted, and Hiccup cleared his throat and looked away.

Not even the dark could fool her.


	10. Stranger

**Nothing to say on this one, guys, except for the fact that I'm pretty proud of it and astounded by what it turned itself into. It might even turn into a full story after I finish this whole challenge thing. I really like where it wound up going and want to do more of it, so don't fret if you like it, because there'll be more. Think of this as like... a teaser.**

**Hope you like it.**

_**I OWN NOBODY AND THEY'RE DAMN HAPPY ABOUT IT.**_

–

Stoick hadn't recognized the ship at first. Maybe he hadn't wanted to.

He had been out for a stroll that morning and had seen it drifting up across the horizon, its small sails white against the rising sun and the mist, its mast pointing toward Berk like an arrow. It took a while for him to realize what it was. Whose it was. Who could blame him? He hadn't seen that vessel in twelve years, and he'd been sure he never would again up until now.

He, Gobber, Spitelout, and six others were there to greet it when it pulled in to shore. It was a small boat. Sturdy. Its sails were painted with the symbol of the chieftain of Berk. Four shields, battered and burned, hung tiredly on its sides. There were scorch marks and holes left and right. It was a broken ship. But he recognized it. Gobber did, too.

"Stoick," he murmured. Stoick shook his head and Gobber was silent.

It seemed like an eternity before the crew disembarked and headed toward the welcomers.

She was the last one to get off.

As she moved, Stoick saw it as though he was watching a long-forgotten dream. Her thick auburn hair, braided into two buns at her chin, shined like copper. Her verdant eyes glittered in the morning light. As a smile flew across her face, a curtain of freckles, opened around it, and the similarity at that instant between her and their son was heartbreaking.

Still at the speed of a slow waltz he had once dreamt, she turned her head and saw him, and, pulling him from his reverie, she let out a joyous cry of, "STOICK!"

_Her voice..._

And then her arms were around him, and he was knocked backwards by the impact, and she kept saying his name, over and over until it hurt, and as he raised his arms to wrap them around her, he caught his tears and blinked in astonishment at the sky.

"Valhallarama," he whispered.

–

"Dude, did you hear about the ship that pulled in today?"

Hiccup looked up from the forge to see Tuffnut, Ruffnut, Snotlout, Fishlegs and Astrid crowded around the window, grinning in at him.

"Huh?" He wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his sleeve, frowning at them.

Ruffnut scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Guess not."

"We're all gonna head down and check it out; wanna come?" Snotlout pushed the brim of his helmet up with his thumb. Hiccup was still getting used to the idea of his cousin voluntarily inviting him to things.

"Nah," Hiccup replied immediately. "I've still got tons of work to do. And I'll probably see them tomorrow night anyway. Chief's son and all." He liked throwing that title around.

Snotlout snorted. "Since when did _that_ make any difference?"

"Uh, gotta propose a toast for all newcomers at the honorary feast, remember?" It was clear from the tone of his voice that said toasting was not something Hiccup was too fond of.

"Oh, yeah; I remember the first time you did that." Snotlout snickered.

"Yeah, didn't you, like, spill your mead all over their Chief's head?" Tuffnut added, folding his lips in to hide his laughter, which was threatening to burst out at any moment.

Hiccup scowled at them.

"That was an _accident_, thank you, and I was... nervous."

"Psh, bet Thor's hammer you were!" Snotlout laughed. "Nobody could understand you because you were stammering so hard. You're more fragile than my grandma."

"No wonder they declared war on us," Ruffnut sighed in mock forlornness.

"We lost so many," Tuffnut sniffled.

"If only he hadn't spilled the mead!" Snotlout wailed to the heavens, falling dramatically to his knees. Astrid kicked him, knocking him clean over.

"Ha, _ha_," Hiccup griped. "That war only lasted for, like, _three_ days, and the only deaths were of _sheep_."

"Still, it was a pretty impressive kickoff for war season," Snotlout sniggered gleefully. "Your dad was _sooo_ proud."

"Can we just go see the ship already?" Ruffnut snapped.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Okay."

"C'mon, 'Legs; move those little tree stump legs of yours!"

"Bye, Hiccup!" Fishlegs called cheerfully, waving to Hiccup as the group retreated over the hill.

Hiccup sighed as he watched them go and absentmindedly scratched at his leg. Toothless, who had been sleeping in the corner for most of the conversation, perked up at the depressed sound and chuffed curiously.

"Mm?" Hiccup glanced up as he heard him. "Oh, I'm fine, bud. It's just a really nice day out. Wish I didn't have to work."

"You could always just leave, you know." The all-too-familiar voice popped up in his ear, causing him to yelp, flail, and fall over with a clatter.

Astrid laughed, a rare sound, and in spite of how startled he was, Hiccup couldn't help but be entranced by it.

"I thought we went over the whole 'don't sneak up on me or you'll give me a heart attack' thing," he grumbled, brushing himself off and starting to get to his feet.

"We did," Astrid replied briskly, grabbing him by the arm and hoisting him up helpfully (well, helpfully enough to practically dislocate his shoulder).

"Thought so." He paused. "Wait, why are you still here? I thought you were going with them."

Astrid shrugged, pushing herself up to sit on the edge of the windowsill. She crossed her legs and Hiccup gulped, averting his eyes. She didn't wear her leggings in the summer.

"Figured I'd stick around and try to get you to come," she said, feigning indifference. "I'm not in the mood to be around Snotlout without you there to fend him off."

"Fend him off?" Hiccup burst into laughter at that. "We both know you'd do a better job of that than I would any day."

"True. But... y'know. You're _always_ in here. Get out and breathe, for Thor's sake. Why waste these nice days? We only get about five of them a year."

"I can't." Hiccup put his hands out helplessly. "Gobber would kill me."

"He's not even here!"

"Yeah, but my experience with Gobber has taught me that if he's not here, he's everywhere else." He looked away. "Besides. Dad doesn't need me screwing things up down there."

Astrid sighed after a moment, hopping off the windowsill and walking over to stand beside him. She tangled her fingers lightly in his and squeezed them.

"What have I told you about letting the twins get to you?"

Hiccup chuckled weakly.

"'Don't.'"

Astrid nodded firmly.

"Right. So why are you, then?"

"It's... really not just them. I mean, they're just sort of... solidifying the whole thing." Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "They're right, though."

"No, they're not, and you're an idiot for thinking they are."

Hiccup smiled softly at her. "Thanks. I think."

Astrid's cheeks flushed and she looked away, hiding the blush behind her bangs.

"Don't think that was a compliment or anything. I'm just stating the truth."

Hiccup nodded, laughing a little.

"Of course."

She cleared her throat and took her hand out of his.

"Well, if you're not coming, then I guess I'll leave you to your... whatever."

"Have fun," Hiccup said, and he meant it. "I'll see you later."

She shifted tentatively for a moment before grabbing his shoulder and driving her lips into his, practically knocking him out. She pulled off after a moment and his head followed her instinctively, so much so that he almost tumbled forward onto his face.

"B...bye?" he choked out.

"Yup," she replied, nodding in satisfaction, before striding out of the smithy and sprinting up over the hill.

Toothless rolled his eyes.

"She's too good for me, bud," Hiccup croaked, his voice wavering. "She's too good for me."

–

"Oh, Stoick; I'm _so_ sorry for not having told you sooner! I wish I could've, I really do; but I was stranded on this godforsaken island in the middle of the sea, and I had to make due for myself and my crew, and by _Odin_ it was tough, but I made it – we made it! – and I... oh, _Stoick_; I've missed you so much."

Stoick was fairly certain that his wife had been saying the same things for hours, but he supposed it was for his benefit, because he was too dumbfounded to pay attention anyway. Her words were of no importance to him – he was more interested in the way her mouth moved when it wasn't on his, in the way her eyes lit up from excitement as she told him about her adventures, in the way she moved her milky, freckled arms excitedly when she would recount tales of the thrilling breed. He wasn't sure what to make of her, much to his shame. He was absolutely ecstatic to see her home – so much so that he swore he would dissolve into very un-Vikingly tears at any moment – but it was so strange, to accept the fact that she wasn't dead, after he'd just gotten used to the idea that she was.

He hadn't any idea how she'd managed to come back alive. No one had come back from that voyage to the Dragon's Nest. _No one_. Not even a single piece of driftwood.

And yet here she was – sitting across from him. In his house. _Their_ house. The house they had built together. The walls and the floors and the firelight came alive around her like it never had before. The place was real again. It was full and warm and _home_.

"I'm so _sorry_, Stoick," Valhallarama said again, putting her forehead in her hand. "You must've been worried sick."

"For a while, yes. But then I realized there wasn't much to worry about anymore. That you were probably dead." He felt horrible for saying the words, but they were true. He was always compelled to be honest with this woman. She was bewitching.

She stared at him, looking almost offended.

"Me? Dead? After I promised you we'd live to be fifty? Valhalla above, Stoick; what on earth made you think I was _dead_? I can't've been gone for _that_ long!"

Now it was Stoick's turn to stare incredulously. She looked taken aback by his expression – maybe as taken aback as he was by her words.

"_That_ long? _'That long_?' Valhallarama, you've been gone for... for _fifteen years_, damn it all! Of _course_ I thought you were dead!"

She gasped, her hand dropping to the table with a stunned _thud_.

"F-f-_fifteen_?" she croaked. "S-Stoick, don't toy with me. I... I _can't_ have been gone for fifteen years! That's... that's _impossible_! I was only gone for a few months – a _year_ at the most – not for... for _fifteen_...! I counted every day!"

"You must've lost count somewhere, then." Stoick couldn't help but be angry. He really couldn't. Their boy had grown up without a mother. He had raised their child without a wife. The village had gone without a chieftess. What had she gone without? Certainly nothing that seemed to be worth her acting upset over. "It has been fifteen years since I last saw your face, and our son doesn't even remember what you look like."

Valhallarama let out a small choking noise at the mention of their son, her eyes glistening with sudden tears.

"Hiccup..." she breathed weakly, speaking the name as though it was a holy word and she was unworthy of saying it aloud.

"Yes," Stoick replied roughly. "Hiccup."

There was a long, horrible silence, and Stoick wanted so badly to simply stand up and leave, to retreat into the bed he had slept alone in for so many years, but he didn't.

"He's a man now, Hiccup is," Stoick murmured. "I'm so proud of him."

Valhallarama sniffled at this, sounding as though she were on the verge of some emotional explosion.

"I wish you could have been here... to see him grow..." Stoick let out a great sigh and closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "It... all happened so fast. One morning I woke up and he... had taken flight. ...Literally and figuratively."

Valhallarama tilted her head quizzically.

"The dragons you've seen on the island," Stoick explained. "You know, the ones that almost gave you a heart attack just for being here. He's responsible for that. He stood up and taught us all that we didn't need to fight them. That we could live in harmony with them. And now every morning he takes off into the sky on the back of a Night Fury."

Valhallarama gaped in disbelief at him.

"A _Night Fury_?"

"Yes. Thing makes a mess of the house, I tell you. He calls it 'Toothless.' Silly name, because the beast obviously has teeth." Stoick swished his mead around in its mug pensively. "Hiccup's going to be seventeen in two months. Hasn't filled out a bit, though; he's still a bloody toothpick. Doesn't have a single stub of a beard growing, either."

"Don't lie to me, Stoick." Valhallarama said it so quietly that for a moment Stoick wasn't sure if he'd heard it or not.

He blinked at her. "What?"

In one swift, terrifying motion, Valhallarama smashed her hands onto the surface of the table, causing every bit of silverware on it to jump into the air, and heaved herself from her seat.

"_DON'T LIE TO ME!_" she screamed, and it was like the roar of a bloodthirsty Nadder. In that instant, Stoick saw her as the warrior he remembered, as the tempestuous, russet-haired slip of a girl who had smacked him around much like Astrid did to Hiccup, but he did not cower under her presence as he once had, instead standing just as she was, their eyes level.

"Lie? _Lie_? Do not call me a liar, Valhallarama! Everything I've said is true! Every _second_ of living without you here is true! Every question that _my boy_ has asked me about his mother, the mother he never knew, the questions I could never answer, are true! Every day that has gone by that I have looked to the skies and wondered if you were up there watching me is true! Every damnable _tear_ I have _shed_ blaming myself for your _death_ is true! Everything! All of it! _EVERYTHING_!"

He panted after that outburst, winded by anger and sadness and frustration, and he was stunned when he saw Valhallarama's eyebrows fracture over her eyes to make way for an expression of such astounded sorrow that it shattered him. She staggered back and collapsed back onto the stool, her shoulders shaking violently, and she buried her face in her palms, and wept.

Stoick had never in his life seen Valhallarama cry.

He made a motion to go toward her, to kneel beside her and pull her head into his shoulder and hold her, to cradle her and share her tears, but he was interrupted by the sound of the front door creaking open, and by the sound of uneven steps – one soft and booted, one metal – making their way across the floorboards.

Before he had any time to react, Hiccup was in the dining room, grinning that goofy, oblivious Hiccup grin.

"Hey, Dad!" he exclaimed happily.

Valhallarama froze.

Hiccup blinked and noticed the woman on the stool, and he shifted hesitantly before approaching her and extending his hand in greeting.

"Welcome to Berk, traveler," he said in a comically formal voice. He glanced over his shoulder at Stoick. "...was that right? Did I do that right?"

Stoick nodded dumbly.

Valhallarama stared at the open palm before her, and her eyes slowly roved over Hiccup, taking in every precious inch of him, before finally falling on his face. Stoick swore she was going to start crying all over again.

But instead she took Hiccup's hand and shook it lightly, murmuring, "thank you."

Hiccup loosened in relief at the acceptance of his hospitality before turning away and heading for the stairs.

"It's a great night out, Dad, so I'm gonna saddle up Toothless and we're gonna go for a flight with Astrid. Don't wait up for me; we'll be out late." Stoick opened his mouth to say something. "Ah, nope, nope; I know! Keep the stirrups tight, stay within ten miles of the island, and don't die. I got it, Dad." He grinned charismatically at both Stoick and the visitor before speeding up the stairs and calling down, "don't forget to wash those dishes!"

The silence that followed Hiccup's brief presence was not an uncomfortable one, but it still made Stoick feel terrible and encumbered, and he was almost relieved when Hiccup came thundering back down the stairs, saddle and tailfin in hand, and bolted out the door into the summer night.

After a while, Stoick walked slowly over to Valhallarama, pulled up a stool, and sat beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders and drawing her close. She rested her head on his shoulder without complaint.

"What happened to his leg?" she whispered.

"Lost it," Stoick replied heavily. "In a battle with a dragon two summers ago. ...He saved us all."

"And Astrid?" Valhallarama sniffled quietly. "Who is Astrid?"

"The Hoffersons' girl. She's a thin little thing, but tougher than the gods would ever grant a woman. She's fiery, you know. Got spirit." He sighed, long and free. "He's in love."

"Is she, too?"

Stoick nodded.

Outside, the cry of a Night Fury resonated through the darkness. Stoick grasped Valhallarama's hand.

"Come to the window, quick. He's probably taking off."

Valhallarama nodded and the two dashed to the window, peering out at the sky.

Sure enough, a distinct black shape shifted across the stars, beating its wings joyously, spinning and plummeting and soaring through the breeze. A loud, ecstatic whoop echoed out over the cliffs – Hiccup – as dragon and boy glided out over the whispering sea.

Valhallarama rested her head against Stoick's shoulder and watched, her breathing soft and proud.

There were many things that she would have to explain, and many things she would have to wake up for, but for now she was happy to see her son doing the thing the gods had created him to do, and she'd never seen anything so beautiful.

_Welcome to Berk, traveler._


	11. Confusion

**I'm a bit tentative about posting this, to be honest, because one of the biggest conflicts I've been having in my head is whether the Valhallarama story would be better being left at just that one snippet, or being continued.**

**As you can see, I chose to continue it, probably against my better judgment.**

**I've decided that prompts 10, 11, and 12 will encompass this whole "arc" of Hiccup's mom returning home. Since so many people were asking for more – and, admittedly, since I was unable to keep myself from **_**writing**_** more – I figured, why not? **

**Unsurprisingly, these past two have taken me a long time to write, as they both contain a **_**lot**_**. This is the first actual multi-chapter story I've written in a very long time, so you'll have to excuse me if it doesn't flow well, or if I go a bit overboard with how much is in it. Regardless, I'm pleased with the end result here, and I'm hoping I'm doing an okay job characterizing Valhallarama and the conflicts she faces in revealing her identity to Hiccup.**

**Well, enough of my babbling. This will be concluded on Saturday. I'm giving myself two days for these prompt responses because they're a lot more involved than the usual ones. Hope you guys don't mind.**

_**I OWN NOBODY AND THEY'RE DAMN HAPPY ABOUT IT.**_

–

"Do I _have_ to wear this, Dad? I look ridiculous."

Stoick surveyed his son thoughtfully and knew immediately that he would have to turn himself into a very good liar. Hiccup looked miniscule slouched under the thick fur mantle on his shoulders. His tunic, though carefully washed and smoothed, looked wrinkled under the cloak. His hair was sticking up in the back as it always did despite Stoick's best efforts to smooth it down with spit. To top it off, he looked absolutely miserable. That was one thing Stoick could always count on Hiccup for – his expressions hid nothing.

"W-Well..." He was doing a terrible job already. "If you just stood up straight, it wouldn't look so bad."

Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"Actually, that's usually the part where you say that I look great and manly and that yes, I have to wear it."

"Well." Stoick paused, thinking. "Then... yes. You have to wear it."

Hiccup snorted, but Stoick detected a hint of affection in it, so he knew he was off the hook.

"Dad, I'm going to completely humiliate the entire village. I always do!" He groaned, running a hand through his hair in agitation, which only made the sticking up worse.

"Yes, son, you probably will," Stoick admitted involuntarily, leaping forward and smoothing Hiccup's hair back down before he could do anymore damage. "But it doesn't matter, because you'll still do just fine in the end."

"No," Hiccup said with a grimace, "I'm really very extra sure that I won't."

Stoick laughed at that, clapping Hiccup heartily on the back, which caused the scrawny boy's knees to promptly buckle. Hiccup let out a couple nervous titters of his own in response.

"There certainly are a lot of things you seem to be very extra sure of, son," Stoick finally said, calming his laughter and smiling warmly down at his boy. "You don't need to be sure of everything in life, you know."

"I know," Hiccup murmured with a shrug. "But I like to be."

Stoick gazed thoughtfully at him, taking in his words. Sometimes he was astounded by how much Hiccup had grown in just a year.

"You've turned into a wise lad, Hiccup," he said, patting Hiccup's head proudly.

"Yeah, but it won't do me much good, will it?" Hiccup gave a wry smile. "Not very... Viking-ly."

"Well, perhaps you'll be ushering in a new type of Viking, then," Stoick chuckled. Hiccup grinned at the encouragement, an expression that reminded Stoick so horribly of Valhallarama.

That was when he remembered, as he'd been remembering frequently since the day before – she was back. She was alive. She had survived her fifteen-year voyage, and had returned back with no perception of the time she'd been gone. And Hiccup didn't know it yet.

This was almost enough to cause him to dissolve into tears, but he didn't permit it to. He felt a sickening thud, though, in the pit of his stomach, and suddenly he couldn't look at Hiccup anymore. His innocent obliviousness was painful to observe.

He turned abruptly away from Hiccup, blinking back whatever emotion it was that seemed to be gnawing him to pieces.

"Dad?" Hiccup's voice was confused – worried. Stoick felt a hand touch his elbow. "Dad, what is it?"

"N-Nothing," Stoick replied, entirely unconvincingly. He could tell by the way Hiccup narrowed his eyes at him that his words had not been believed. "Now don't squint at me like that, boy. You'd best head down to the hall if you're ready; the feast will be starting soon and we're already running late."

"Er... are you sure there's nothing—"

"Oh, for Loki's sake, just go. Don't tell me you've lost your hearing _and_ your leg," Stoick barked, and he admitted it was a little harsh, but that was the Viking way – tough love. Couldn't have the boy thinking his father had gone all wishy-washy. He needed to be a strong figure to Hiccup, especially considering he would be taking on the chiefship when Stoick passed. Now wasn't the time to get all sentimental. That, and a Viking always hid his tears.

The hand retreated from his elbow, and Stoick felt a bit guilty, but Hiccup was out the door before he could turn around and apologize.

_Oh, well done, Stoick. Now you've gone and hurt the lad's feelings again. Magnificent job._

He heaved a sigh, and it was worn and tired and a bit at a loss for purpose, but in spite of his dread for the feast and his heartache for the wife he thought he'd lost, he squared his shoulders and picked up his helmet off the table.

_Half of her breast-plate._

He never realized how silly that sounded until now. But he still treasured it. He patted the metal helmet and smiled at no one in particular and said, "don't you worry, love. He's missed you more than he's let on, and he'll be glad to see you."

He sighed after hearing him say his thoughts aloud. Knowing Hiccup, he wouldn't be glad in the slightest. He'd probably jump off a cliff.

–

The night was cool around Hiccup's cheeks as he strolled idly along the quiet dirt road through the village, kicking at pebbles and bits of coughed-up chicken bones from the dragons. He breathed it in, relishing the smell of it – the smell of summer, and starlight, and happiness. It was a good night. The constellations glittered sharply in the heavens, winking down on him encouragingly. He knew he'd probably end up disappointing them, but he was used to that sort of thing, so it didn't really bother him.

"There you are!"

He turned around sharply to find the source of the voice but was instead greeted by the force of a fist bumping harshly into his stomach. He coughed on impact, briefly winded.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, you dolt! Where have you been?"

With a wince, he raised his eyes to smile at Astrid, but the smile came out as more of a gape, because she looked beautiful. Well, more beautiful than usual.

"Oh, don't look at me like that; it's hideous," she grunted with a pout, pulling awkwardly at the billowing sleeves of her deep evergreen gown. The collar scooped to a soft V just beneath her collarbone, and it, like the cuffs of the sleeves and the edges of the long skirt and the sewn-on belt, was patterned with swirls and dainty drawings of ivy leaves, all dyed a rich burgundy. Her headband was still there, and Hiccup could see a dagger peeking up from beneath the belt.

"You," he croaked. "Hi. You... beautif... pretty. So pretty. Astrid. Hi, Astrid."

She huffed and tossed her bangs aside, attempting to look indifferent to his attempts at compliments, but Hiccup could detect the slight flush that painted itself across her cheeks.

"Quit blubbering; it makes you look stupid," she said briskly, linking arms with him a bit forcefully and starting to very subtly drag him toward the dining hall.

"I can't help it," Hiccup protested, putting on an air of rather sappy adoration. "How _could_ I, around you?"

"Stop," she groaned, with feigned disgust. "You'll make me barf."

He smirked and straightened himself, and, although he didn't notice, his father had been right – he looked infinitely better and more dignified once he bettered his posture.

"Any idea what you're gonna say yet?" Astrid asked, glancing at him.

"No," he admitted, gulping. "I've had a few... syllables come out, but nothing substantial enough for me to remember for more than five seconds."

"You'll do fine," she said encouragingly. "Because if you don't, I'll beat you up."

Hiccup knew she probably meant it, so it was a little motivating. At that moment, even though he was so nervous he swore he was going to vomit, he was incredibly thankful to have Astrid at his arm, even though she was kind of leading _him_, instead of the other way around.

He liked the way he and Astrid defied tradition, though.

"Where's everybody else?" He wasn't actually really all that interested in where the twins, Snotlout, and Fishlegs were, but he figured he'd ask anyway. He wondered if Ruffnut had deigned to wear a dress like Astrid had.

"Oh, they're probably there already. I know Snotlout wanted to get there early, just in case you did something embarrassing before the actual feast started."

The encouragement part left.

"That was... kind of him," Hiccup grumbled. Astrid laughed. It tinkled.

"Oh, come on. Lighten up. I hear his seat's right next to yours, so maybe you can accidentally drop some food on him or something, if he gets too rowdy."

Hiccup let out a snort of amusement. "Good plan. Better him than the leader... captain? Chieftess? What _is_ her title, even?"

"Guess you'll find out soon enough," Astrid replied, and Hiccup suddenly realized that they were standing at the front doors, and he froze up immediately. Astrid threw her head back in exasperation before squaring her feet behind him and shoving him inside. "Man up, Hiccup. Thor almighty."

Hiccup merely squeaked in response.

–

Valhallarama knew one thing for certain: her men were definitely glad to be around real food again.

She rolled her eyes pleasantly at them as they wolfed down bite after bite of meat and vegetables and bread. She couldn't blame them. The food tasted delicious to her stale taste buds, too. But she wasn't really in the right mood to be enjoying her meal. Her eyes had been fixated unabashedly on her son, who was sitting about four seats down from her, recounting some tale to his friends with passionate gesticulations that were making all of them laugh without cease. She wanted to be over there laughing with them, to be able to hear the story he was telling. It seemed like a grand one.

She confessed that she adored the way his face seemed to light up when he got particularly immersed in whatever he was saying, or the way his eyes glinted whenever he would start to explain one of his inventions. She knew from Stoick that he was an inventor. Was there anything he _wasn't_, really?

Well, he wasn't aware of who she was, and that was the one thing that she wished he was.

Stoick noticed her staring and silently put his hand on hers, so subtly that no one else at the table noticed it. Valhallarama felt warmth spread through her at his touch, and she managed to take her eyes off of Hiccup for a moment, surveying the scene around her.

She, her men, Stoick, Gobber, and the village adolescents were seated at a long horizontal table at the very back of the hall, which overlooked ten or so other equally long tables arranged vertically, which were packed with celebrating Vikings and enormous platters of sumptuous food. The walls were vibrating with the unending buzz of chatter and merriment.

Valhallarama had missed Berk. It was, after all, her home. She felt a bit odd, knowing that all of them had thought – no, _still_ thought – that she was dead. In fact, the only people in the room aware of who she really was were Gobber and Stoick.

Stoick removed his hand when he noticed a few curious glances jotting their way towards it. He leaned toward Valhallarama and surreptitiously whispered in her ear.

"Do you plan on telling him tonight?"

Valhallarama honestly couldn't decide. She shuddered at the mere thought of it, but she knew she probably wouldn't be able to bear another day of walking around cloaked in this mystery. The boy had to know. She had to know he knew.

"I don't know if I can," she replied, ashamed. She had never admitted to not thinking she was able to do something. She'd always been a stubborn woman. Nothing could ever daunt her.

Except this.

"He... doesn't have to know," Stoick murmured, and even he sounded unsure of his words. Valhallarama stared at him incredulously.

"Of course he does!" she hissed. Stoick shook his mighty head.

"It's like you said last night. You can just go off again. One more voyage, before you tell him. Or you can never come back at all." He sighed heavily. "Odin knows that if you did that, it'd break my heart, but if you think it's best for the lad, then..."

His voice trailed off forlornly, and a frown deepened over his already severe face. Valhallarama exhaled shakily and grasped her wooden goblet tightly, as if hoping it could steady her.

"I'm never leaving either of you again." She meant that with every ounce of her being. "Not for one second."

Stoick wasn't planning on replying, but even if he'd been about to, he would have been cut off as Gobber stood up from his seat and raised his prosthetic mug arm. Stoick's verve sank horribly. It was time for the toast.

"Fellow Vikings!" Gobber boomed. When the din did not cease, he scowled and thundered: "NOW SHUT YER DAMN TRAPS OR I'LL MAKE YEH A NEW ONE, YEH BUNCH O' CRETINS!"

That worked.

Gobber grinned triumphantly at the sudden, terrified silence in the hall, surveying the villagers with a seriousness rare of him.

"Now I know yeh all think we're gathered here t' eat – which, granted, we all prob'ly _are_ – but let's not forget the _real_ reason we're all sittin' aroun' stuffin' our faces." He gestured grandly to Valhallarama and her four crew members, who all smiled a bit bashfully. "We were honored yesterday to retrieve these fine visitors from the..." He paused, quickly leaning in toward Stoick. "Where was it again?"

"North," Stoick grunted back.

"Righ', righ'. We were honored yesterday to receive these fine visitors from the North gracin' our shores, an' it is our pleasure to house them on our island tonigh'!"

A great cheer rang up and many feet thumped the ground in agreement.

"As is the Viking way here on Berk, we would like t' now permit our stringy beanpole of a Chief's son—" Stoick elbowed him viciously in the side. "—Thor almighty, Stoick, I'm only jokin'! Anyway, the Chief's son, Hiccup, would like t' say a few words of welcome." He turned smugly to Hiccup, who was practically cowering like cornered game in his seat. "Hiccup! Yer on, lad!"

Hiccup gulped visibly before standing in his seat a little bit too quickly, which rattled the table and knocked his chair over. Snotlout and the twins were sniggering. Hiccup's cheeks turned a nasty shade of red as he grinned painfully at his audience, groping around for his goblet. At last, his fingers found it, and he lifted it up with a bit too much force, causing its contents to splash around and plop down on Snotlout's head.

"Oh, gods in Valhalla," he rasped. Stoick put his face in his hands. This boy certainly was a professional.

"I..." Hiccup inhaled deeply, regaining his composure, and when he began to speak again, everyone was surprised by the sudden strength his voice had suddenly obtained. "Yesterday morning, as the sun rose over the seas, a tired ship made its way to our docks. Its crew had endured great hardship and overcome many obstacles to reach our shores. Berk is always happy to receive any visitors, and to share our homes and food with them." A collective, approving nod ran through the hall. Hiccup, squaring his shoulders, turned to face Valhallarama and her crew, raising his goblet carefully and respectfully. "It is my honor to welcome you to Berk, travelers, as it is everyone's honor here tonight." He wheeled back on the tables. "A toast! To..." He blinked, realizing he didn't know the names of the visitors, and cleared his throat. "Toooo..."

His eyes darted desperately to Valhallarama.

"Valhallarama," she whispered, at such a soft volume that at first no one was sure if they'd heard it.

For the briefest of seconds, she saw a flicker of realization flash through Hiccup's forested eyes, and for just a moment his hand seemed to go limp and lower itself from its toasting position, and his eyebrows twitched, and Valhallarama wanted nothing more than to simply leap from her seat and take him up in her arms and sob and tell him how much she loved him and how much she'd missed him and how much he meant to her and—

He recovered within moments, shaking his head as though dazed, and when the smile returned to his face, Valhallarama could have sworn that there had been no pause at all.

"To Valhallarama!" he cried, raising his goblet. Everyone else in the hall echoed his words and lifted their cups as well. "And to her crew!"

All hands tipped their goblets into their mouths, and a cheer rang through the hall. Hiccup was grinning idiotically, hardly able to believe he'd managed to do it all properly. Out of the corner of her eye, Valhallarama saw him exchange glances with Astrid. She approved of that girl. Had a good head on her shoulders.

"Thank you for the welcome, son of Stoick," Valhallarama called down the table. Hiccup turned and beamed at her.

"Call me Hiccup!" he shouted back.

Valhallarama forced a smile and was relieved when Hiccup's head turned away from her again.

"I can't," she whispered, and no one heard her but herself.

The rest of the feast passed in a bit of a blur, heedless and calm and warm. Valhallarama struggled to keep her eyes from wandering back to her son, back to his blissful ignorance and his silly-looking grin. Some moments she would find herself resenting him for not knowing – for not figuring it out. A boy should be able to recognize his own _mother_, for Loki's sake! How could he have forgotten her?

Still other moments she discovered she was resenting herself, for not telling him yet, for being gone for so long; or she was resenting Stoick, for having gotten to have Hiccup all to himself, for having been permitted to watch their son grow into a man (well, sort of) while she had to come home one day and find that he'd grown up without her. None of this was at all fair, and the resentment building up was making her sick.

"I've got to go, Stoick," she finally murmured into Stoick's ear, standing up without looking at him. "I... I can't be in here anymore."

Stoick reached out as if to stop her, but she was already out of his reach, making her way through the dancing crowd. She felt deaf. There was no sound to her except, far in the back of the hall, at the enormous mahogany table, the laughter of Hiccup.

She threw the doors open and strode out into the night, not stopping, not caring where she was going. She vaguely heard the door open again and close behind her, but she paid it no heed, thinking it was probably just Stoick trying to get her to come back inside. She walked past the houses and the wells and the docks and the pastures and stopped at the edge of a bluff overlooking the ocean before she noticed the uneven, slightly clanging footsteps approaching her.

She swivelled around, filled with dread, and her fears were confirmed: Hiccup was standing there, looking a bit perplexed and a bit worried and a bit tired all at once, and he was panting a little from his brief run after her.

"Um," he mumbled, scratching his cheek awkwardly, his eyes darting around. "Was the food really that bad?"

She blinked, taking his words in, and it took her a moment to realize it was a joke, but when she did, she couldn't help but let out a grateful smile.

"Oh... no; on the contrary, it was really very good."

"Well, I guess everything tastes good after you've been eating ship food for a couple of years," Hiccup replied with a laugh.

He shifted tentatively for a moment, and Valhallarama had a flash of foreboding – _he knew; oh, gods, he knew, and he was going to ask and she would have to answer—_

"If it wasn't the food, then..." She could tell he was a modest sort, not usually the type to go prodding at people's problems. "What was it? Are you all right?"

He genuinely did care. She knew he did. But she could tell by the way he said it that he was apprehensive about her answering, because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to offer her any assistance in whatever was ailing her mood.

"I just..." She sighed and wrapped her arms around each other, turning to face the sea again. The full moon made a nacreous strip across the black waters that glittered like a path to Valhalla. "I just miss my family."

There was a silence, except for the rustling of the sea, before she heard Hiccup thoughtfully reply, "oh."

After another moment's quiet, she heard him speak again. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry," Valhallarama brushed him off. "Last thing I need is sympathy. It was my own fault for what happened, not theirs. I should be the one apologizing."

"What were they like?"

She swallowed for strength, still refusing to turn and see him. "Oh, you know... they were... they were really wonderful. My husband, he was a big one, strong and brave, but Odin knows he was a sensitive fellow, though he'd never dare show it. Oh, I loved him more than I could ever love anything. And he was pretty fond of me, too."

"I'd hope so," Hiccup interjected good-naturedly. Valhallarama smiled. What a witty son she had.

"I didn't want to leave him behind, I really didn't. And when I left home... I left my child, too." She choked a little on tears that had suddenly gathered in her eyes. "My boy... oh, he was only a wee one... probably not even past three. And I loved him, oh, Odin knows I did; I loved him more than I could _bear_... and I swore to him when I left that I'd be back in a blink, that it would feel like no time at all before he was back in my arms." She sniffled. She didn't care anymore if she cried in front of Hiccup. "He must hate me now, I reckon. Because I never did come back. Lost myself somewhere out there, in the seas... and he's gone and grown up without me now. Probably doesn't even remember me."

At the utter lack of words that followed her little monologue, her heart clenched – had he figured it out? Had she gone too far?

"I'm sure he doesn't hate you."

She blinked back the hot, salty droplets that were now running down her cheeks and brushed them from her eyes.

"I mean," Hiccup's voice was slow, "I've... grown up without my mom. And for... for a while, I _did_ hate her... because I thought she'd left because I was a failure, or because I wasn't a good enough Viking. That she was ashamed."

Valhallarama wanted to turn and scream to him that that wasn't true; that she loved every ounce of him and was practically crippled by the weight of her pride for him. But she couldn't.

"And... sometimes I wished that she would come back just so I could tell her everything that I wanted to. I'd been building up a list all my life. 'Things I'd Say to Mom If She Was Still Alive.' It was kind of stupid." Sounding stunningly lachrymose, he murmured, "I grew out of it, though."

She heard him sigh. All words she could say were being cut apart somewhere in her lungs, and she couldn't bring herself to speak. How _could_ she, after that?

"But I don't think he hates you," Hiccup repeated, and the hint of tears was gone. "He'd be proud to have a mother brave enough to sail the seas and come out alive. And he probably knows that you love him. Maybe he didn't – at first – but I'm sure he does now."

Valhallarama was touched by his words, even though she knew he wasn't even vaguely aware of their meaning for her. He was just spouting out comfort, but it was an honest comfort, a real comfort – he did _care_. Just knowing that was enough to give her the courage to say the words that had been tearing at her since the day before; it was enough to propel her body into the turn it needed to take to face her son, her incredible son, whose pensive eyes were watching her hopefully, for some confirmation that his words had been of some use to her.

When she spoke, it was like it was a stranger speaking, but she knew it wasn't. She wished it was, but it wasn't.

"Yes," she whispered, weeping openly now. "My Hiccup was a magnificent boy. And he always will be."

_It smashed into Hiccup's heart like a sack filled with hammers, nearly winding him. Even though nothing solid had hit him, he felt himself stumble back as though knocked off-balance. No. This wasn't possible. This wasn't – NO._

_She was smiling at him between the two glimmering trails of tears snaking down her cheeks, and he didn't understand how she could be. What was there to smile about? He wasn't smiling._

_No words were coming to him. No actions jolted through his body. He could do nothing but stand there, paralyzed, like a frightened Terrible Terror, and stare at her, in horror and fear and confusion and ecstasy and sorrow and adoration and anger. It was not right of her to do this... to come back from the dead. How could she? How could she expect that it would be easy?_

With no better alternative and no other way out, Hiccup turned away from his mother and fled.


	12. Bitter

**GOD ALMIGHTY, IT'S FINALLY UP. I have so many excuses as to why this is so horrendously late, mostly revolving around the fact that I'm sick as a dog and have been extremely afraid of continuing the story for fear that I'll botch the big moment, or whatever. Urrrgh, I still feel like there's a lot I did wrong here, and I'd spend ages perfecting it if I could, but it's late enough as is, and if I don't post it now I probably never will. There's so much I could do with this, but I simply couldn't do it all, and I'm sorry I couldn't. But I need to keep going with this challenge. I can't get hung up on just one fic.**

**I hope you guys consider this to be a good conclusion!**

**That being said, dive in.**

–

When the feastgoers finally got around to realizing that Hiccup had been missing from his chair for a while, perfectly understandable confusion ensued. Not a great deal of the villagers were worried; Hiccup had a tendency to skitter off when no one was looking, and he was probably out stargazing or something equally pointless.

As the brief amount of time he'd been gone eventually morphed into hours, the first sprouts of concern started rustling through the village, but sleep was had without a great deal of anxiety, even on Stoick's end. Then the sun rose through the morning fog, and Hiccup was still nowhere to be found, and that was when Berk began to stew.

Stoick ordered search parties to be formed immediately, and before the morning was over, the skies were filled with Vikings riding their dragons over the mountains and treetops. It was peculiar – if this had happened a couple of years ago, nobody would have cared as much as they did now.

"I'm going out to find him," Stoick stated as he threw a few apples and a loaf of bread into his sack on the kitchen table. Valhallarama was standing against the opposite wall, watching him move dazedly, her grassy eyes straying to the floor every few minutes. She had her arms wrapped around her torso, and her face was pale; dark hammocks hung beneath her bloodshot eyes and various strands of auburn hair straggled over them.

She let out a sniffle and Stoick ceased his packing, glancing up at her. His eyes brewed like a storm beneath his thick red eyebrows.

"You can't blame him," he muttered with a sigh, sounding almost ashamed of her. "I would've run off, too."

Valhallarama shook her head wordlessly, her eyes closed tightly, her face screwed into a grimace.

"I want you to stay here," Stoick told her firmly, not looking at her anymore. "Stay here until I come back with him. Odin knows he'd probably dash off again if he saw you before he got home."

His wife let out a shaky breath and pushed something away from her eyes with the base of her palm before slowly nodding, turning her head to the side.

Stoick let out a satisfied "hrmm" before slinging the sack over his shoulder and placing his helmet on his head. As he made for the door, he stopped, his head hanging, before taking a step toward Valhallarama and putting one enormous hand on her shoulder.

"You need to understand that this is hard for him, too."

Valhallarama nodded and kissed one of his knuckles, fast, desperately, her eyes leaking tears.

Stoick inhaled for strength before leaning toward her and putting his lips softly on her cheek. He marveled at how warm she was.

As he drew back, he squeezed her shoulder gently.

"Never thought I'd get to do that again," he whispered. He dropped his hand and left the room, and Valhallarama waited until she heard the front door close before allowing herself to slide to the floor and sob.

She was so sick of crying. She never wanted to do it again. She had gotten more used to the wrenching in her gut and the hot liquid springing from the edges of her eyes in the past twelve hours than any woman would ever need to. Her voice had grown so hoarse from it that she could barely speak, not that she wanted to, anyway. What would she say? A simple sorry wouldn't fix the fact that her son had run away because of her, and it wouldn't fix the fact that there was no guarantee he'd ever come back.

She ran her hands over her face and put them on her mouth before letting out a muffled, rasping scream, choking on the end of it before crumpling around her knees. She was so ashamed of herself. When had she become so weak?

Somewhere in the corner of her earshot, she heard a hesitant chuffing noise, and suddenly something warm and scaly nudged against her elbow. She jumped at the touch, her eyes jerking up to see the crouching Night Fury beside her, its otherworldly green eyes digging into her.

"Oh," she mumbled. "It's you, beast."

The dragon's ears drooped and it scowled at her, huffing as though insulted, before parting its lips to show her its pink gums. It nodded its head pointedly at her, making a smacking noise.

She sighed, cocking an eyebrow cynically at it. "Forgive me. _Toothless_, then."

If dragons could smile, that was what she would call the expression that came upon the Night Fury's face as she spoke its name. Encouraged by the first-name basis, it hopped a little and sniffed at her, its breath coming in brief, hot puffs onto her face, blowing her hair aside. She clucked her tongue and waved her hand at it, shooing it aside.

It frowned at her and let out another puff, sitting up on its hindquarters and quirking its head. She rolled her eyes.

"Don't play cute with me, beast," she scoffed. "Everyone _else_ might think you're some tame little pet, but I'm not fooled." She jabbed a finger at it. "I killed three of you in the battle for the mountain caves. It was easy."

The Night Fury drew back from her hand and hissed at her, baring the teeth that it apparently _did_ have. Valhallarama was unfazed. She didn't really care anymore. It could tear off her arm and she'd deserve it.

"What's so bloody great about you, anyway?" She squinted coldly at the dragon, who growled in response. "What made my boy decide not to kill you? Was he just a _coward_? A traitor?"

At that, Toothless got on all fours and lowered his head threateningly at her, and behind his slitted black pupils, Valhallarama could almost hear him: _take that back._

She let out a "tch" and turned her head away from it, almost disgusted at the fraternization. Why, if this had happened before she'd left, she'd have sooner gutted the creature and worn its pelt than sit here and _chat_ with it.

Then she realized what she'd just said – that she thought Hiccup was a coward. Her shoulders sagged. What had she been thinking? Her boy was the bravest Viking on the island for what he did. It took strength to prove that history had been wrong.

She shouldn't be angry at Hiccup. He'd done nothing.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her head dropping into her hands. "I'm _sorry_."

She racked out a few involuntary sobs, hiding her face in shame. The dragon chirped concernedly and its snout was at her elbow again, and then it was under her arm, and then it was at her cheek, bumping against her hopefully. She opened her eyes and noticed that her arms were around the dragon's neck. She put her face against its scaly chest and sighed.

"Thor in Valhalla," she breathed. "If someone had told me two weeks ago that I'd soon be sitting in my old home with my arms around a Night Fury, I'd've laughed in their faces."

The dragon stared a bit awkwardly at her as she clung to its neck before sighing and resting its head on top of hers. It grumbled disinterestedly.

She patted its back.

"I guess things change more easily than we want them to," she murmured, and she felt the dragon shrug.

"I don't suppose you know where he is?" she asked, tilting her head back to peer skeptically at the beast.

It blinked its enormous eyes at her slowly, considering her question, before snorting and bobbing its head affirmatively.

"And I don't suppose you'll take me to him?"

At that, the Night Fury stared quizzically at her before shaking its head and shouldering her off, shuffling out of the room and into the entrance hall.

"Big help you are!" she snapped after it, and she heard it chirrup sarcastically back at her.

–

Astrid had known exactly where she'd find him.

Even now, as she picked her way over logs and under low branches and along narrow, rough footpaths, she knew he was there, and she hadn't even gotten there yet.

She stopped for a moment to rear her head back and deduce the position of the sun, shading her eyes with her hand, and the sunlight filtered serenely down through the swaying pine boughs. It was almost noon.

She sighed and shook her head. Hiccup was always so dramatic, and it was always her that had to go out and find him and calm him down. She couldn't even begin to imagine what was bothering him now, but she supposed she'd find out soon enough.

She continued along the forest trail, making her way through the thick ferns and underbrush with ease. As she passed by a tall redwood tree, she heard a stream rustling somewhere nearby, and she knew she was getting close. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and ignored the hints of a sweat working its way across her forehead. It was a long hike to the cove, but usually worth it.

Finally, an enormous, moss-covered boulder appeared before her, and she hopped over it, dropping down silently into a shallow ravine leading to a small pathway between two rocks. She ducked under a protruding root and when she emerged from between the rock faces, she couldn't help but smile at the brilliantly sunlit cove and the flock of birds that fluttered past her.

She scanned the area and, sure enough, spotted an all-too familiar head of russet hair glistening in the light. Hiccup was sitting on a small rock, doodling something in the dirt with a stick. There was a large brown sack beside him and – Astrid could hardly believe her eyes – a few yards away, a small _tent_.

She rolled her eyes and leapt down from rock to rock before finally landing on the ground, her braid hanging over her shoulder. She tossed it onto her back again before taking a breath and making her way toward Hiccup, feeling her exasperation ebb with each step she took.

She guessed he must have somehow heard her coming, because he didn't look up when she sat down beside him. A silence passed tentatively between them, and Hiccup scribbled his dirt drawing out with the stick before tossing it aside and dropping his chin into his hands.

Astrid sighed and blew her bangs aside. She wasn't entirely sure what to say, but she finally settled on:

"Everyone's looking for you."

"That's surprising," Hiccup grunted in response, kicking at the dirt with his boot.

"Especially your dad. He woke everyone up and made them form search parties."

Hiccup finally met her eyes, and she was relieved even though his expression was one of incredulity.

"You didn't tell anyone I'm here, did you?" he croaked. Astrid clucked her tongue.

"Of course not. I figured I'd try to get here before they did. Now," she said briskly, "what's going on?"

Hiccup exhaled melancholically and turned away from her, his hands resting on his shoulders.

"I'm not even sure anymore," he murmured.

Astrid didn't understand why he had to be so cryptic. What could possibly have been so terrible that he had to flee the village and pitch a tent in the middle of the woods? She'd never fully understand him, and she'd accepted that, but this was going a bit far.

"Well, obviously you're sure of something, since you're here," she retorted, her eyes drilling into him. Sometimes Hiccup wished she wasn't so perceptive.

"I wouldn't even know where to start to explain." He sighed. "I mean... _I'm_ still confused."

"About _what_?" she prodded, not about to let him slip back into that vagueness he seemed to favor.

He shivered.

"You..." He swallowed, and Astrid could tell that whatever he was about to tell her was difficult for him to say. "You know those people that came on the ship a couple days ago?"

Astrid couldn't help the sarcasm that edged in to her demeanor.

"No. I hadn't noticed."

She wasn't surprised when Hiccup bristled at her remark, and he shot her a sullen glower that took her aback a little. She'd never seen Hiccup glare at her before. She was reminded of that day when they stood on the docks and she refused to let him give up, no matter how angry he got at her. She knew he was more than that. She always had, a little.

She blinked regretfully at him and he correctly took it as an apology.

"It's..." His voice trailed off and he drove his fingers through his hair, pulling the corners of his eyes back with the force. "That woman."

Astrid wrinkled her nose at him. "What about her?" she asked defensively, feeling a little silly by how easily envious she got, and at how incorrectly she was probably interpreting his words. She gasped and leaned forward a bit as another thought came to her head. "Did she do something to you?" Getting a bit ahead of herself, she punched her fist into her palm and scowled ahead resolutely. "Do I need to chop her legs off?"

"She's my mother."

Astrid confessed herself to be completely astounded as she heard the words, spoken in Hiccup's voice – in Hiccup's unassuming, exhausted, crackling voice – and he said it like it was an enormous, horrible lie, the kind that not even he could believe he was telling.

She didn't even argue with him. She didn't express any disbelief, because as bizarre as it was, she _did_ believe him. Instead, all she could think to say was an unsatisfying, "_what_?"

This seemed to free Hiccup's reservations about the situation, because his eyebrows smashed together and his eyes darted forward and his hands dropped to his knees.

"She's alive," he breathed roughly, and Astrid was a little surprised by the intensity he'd suddenly undertaken. "All these years, she's just been out there sailing around. And I guess she figured it was about time she came back, so she did, and she's here, and she's _alive_... and she's my _mom_... and she..."

His vehement expression dissolved into one of utter turmoil, and he put his hands over his eyes, whimpering.

"She just... _mentioned_ it, you know; last night; 'oh, hey, by the way, I've got a kid named Hiccup, and he's you.' I... I mean... Astrid," —he addressed her with desperation, and his head snapped up and he gazed at her, grabbing her arms and clutching her, searching her eyes for answers he knew she couldn't give— "when did this even _happen_?"

"Last night," Astrid replied bluntly, not sure what else to say. She was trying to help. She really was.

Hiccup ignored her.

"When did she just _decide_ that she could come back and be a _part _of all this again? It... it was just starting to get _easy_, not having her around—"

Astrid cut him off. "It never got easy and you know it. You know, you used to always say that if your mom came back, you'd be the happiest Viking on Berk. What changed?"

She wasn't being cruel. She was just making him answer his own questions. That was what she was really good at.

He loosened his grip on her and replied, his tone wrought with honesty, "It happened."

Astrid nodded thoughtfully. "So... what _do_ you feel?"

He frowned at her. She knew he didn't like it when she asked questions, but he couldn't just sit there and brood without knowing exactly why he was doing it.

"I just want her to go back where she came from," he whispered, pulling his knees up and resting his chin on them. "I'm doing just fine without her. Now that she's back, everything... everything's all messed up." His head dropped in defeat. "Things were just starting to be normal."

That hadn't been the answer Astrid was expecting. She edged closer to him and placed her hand on his, surveying him carefully.

"Well, you can't just hide here," she remarked softly. "That won't fix anything."

"Can it even _be_ fixed?" he groaned. "You can't know what this is like, Astrid! You'd think having a dead mother would be hard enough, but I never thought that finding out she was really alive would be _harder_!"

He inhaled, long and deep, as though it was the last breath he'd ever have, and Astrid wanted nothing more than to hug him, but she didn't, because she knew he probably wasn't in the mood.

"Astrid, I just... I came here because I need to think. Just for a couple of days."

"What is there to think about?" Astrid prompted him. "You can just admit that you're hiding. You can at least _tell_ someone."

"The only person I'd conceivably care about knowing would be you, and you know." Hiccup huffed.

"Not your dad?"

"Especially not him. He'd just bring my m–my mom along and then I'd have to see her _face_ and..." He let out a loud, furious groan, pounding at his head angrily. "Astrid, I don't know what I want anymore! I mean, I... I _want_ her to be alive, and I'm happy she is; happier than I can even explain, but... she can't just show up and expect that I'll let her flip my life over. She doesn't belong here anymore. Not in my world."

"You're being stupid," Astrid told him simply, patting his hand. "And you know it. You're not going to learn anything about what you really want and don't want by hiding here. That'll just make things worse. You've got to face this, Hiccup."

"I'm not much of a 'facing things' kind of guy," Hiccup gulped.

"Says the scrawny toothpick who singlehandedly took down the Green Death, and who stood in front of the entire village and refused to kill a dragon, and who renounced his status as a Viking right in front of his father, and who even had the guts to _kidnap me_ and _toss me all over the place on the back of his Night Fury_—"

"I get the point, Astrid," he interjected with a surprisingly genuine chuckle. "But... things were different then. I mean, I had something to stand up for. Something that made me brave." His eyes were downcast. "But now, I've made my point, and... I'm not brave anymore."

Astrid swooped down on him and kissed him, her hand trickling up toward his cheek, and it was long and sincere and ardent and fierce. She stroked the back of his neck and didn't come up for air, because she knew she couldn't, that he needed her there. When she finally did part from him, she rested her forehead against his and stared straight into his eyes and said, "Hiccup, you're the bravest person I know."

He laughed into the crook of her shoulder, a brief, soundless wheeze, and shook his head against hers.

"I don't know what your mother's been slipping into your food, but it seems to be making you delusional," he said wryly, and Astrid smirked and whacked him upside the head.

"Very funny. I look forward to the day that you realize there's nothing _making_ me love you."

He blinked at her, surprised, and she grinned triumphantly. She loved stunning him with one-liners.

He chose not to argue with her and instead rested his head on her shoulder, a practice he wasn't normally allowed to do because of her spiked pauldrons, but the weather was hot and she'd left them at home.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, and he meant it.

–

Toothless had been eyeing the sniffling woman from the rafters for a long time before he made the decision.

She seemed nice enough, and when he sniffed her she smelled like Hiccup. When she'd scowl at him, she reminded him of Hiccup. He knew it was her fault that Hiccup had left, because Hiccup had told him so; or, at least, he'd spoken her name a few times, and Toothless recognized it, the same way he'd learned to recognize _As_-trid and _Dahd_ and _Tooth_-less.

Toothless dropped his tail over the edge of the rafter he was perched on, swishing it around sharply in agitation, trying to decide whether he'd do what he'd been planning to. He was fairly certain that it could go one of two ways: either she'd let him lead her to Hiccup, or she'd attack him for trying.

He huffed. Humans were so strange. He'd thought Hiccup was hard to figure out, but this woman was twice as bad.

He decided that there was some sort of problem going on between this woman and Hiccup, a problem that both of them were clearly too silly to fix on their own. So he'd just have to fix it for them, and he supposed he could start by taking the woman to Hiccup. He trusted her, even though she'd upset the boy. Plenty of people upset Hiccup. Hiccup was a sensitive type. But Toothless knew that Hiccup would never get the guts to face this woman on his own.

With a rumbling sigh, he swooped noiselessly down from his perch, landing a few feet away from the woman and shuffling hesitantly toward her. He chirruped at her questioningly, hoping she wasn't still busy making water with her eyes.

She glanced up at the sound, her expression impassive, and he grunted at her. He didn't like being condescended. Everyone knew Night Furies were the greatest of all dragons.

"Beast, what do you want with me?" she snapped defensively. Toothless blinked. His name wasn't _beast_. He heard that enough from the big-bearded fellow who fed him table scraps. "Can't you see I want to be left alone? You can't help me."

Toothless rolled his eyes. Of course he could.

He nudged her side encouragingly, hoping she'd stand up, and eventually she did, digging her fists into her hips and glowering ferociously at him.

"_What_?" she snarled.

Toothless grinned at her before shoving his head under her, knocking her onto his back with a cry. With a mischievous gurgling noise that sounded eerily similar to laughter, he bounded out of the house and jetted into the air, relishing the sound of the woman's drawn-out scream.

"Beast!" she shrieked, and Toothless choked a little as she constricted his neck with her clutching arms, burying her face in his neck. "Where are you taking me?"

He didn't understand why she sounded so angry. He was doing her a favor, for goodness' sake.

He made a slight hiccuping noise, hoping she'd understand, as Berk receded into the distance and gave way to the treetops of Raven Point. He could feel her staring disbelievingly at him.

The rest of their journey passed in silence, an unspoken understanding passing between them, a quiet sense of gratitude. Eventually her grip on his throat loosened, and she succumbed to the sensation of flight, to sense that she was now in a world not her own.

–

Astrid hadn't wanted to leave, but she knew it was probably the best idea, and that Hiccup would be secretly grateful if she did.

The day had passed slowly, in the sort of languid torturousness that was typical of Berk's summers. As the sun finally crept behind the sheer stone faces of the precipices surrounding the cove, it dyed the world a brooding orange and magenta, the faint rumblings of an approaching thunderstorm sounding in the distance.

"You're sure you want to stay here for the night?" Astrid asked Hiccup for the hundredth time, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

He sighed and nodded hugely, as though he was hoping that the exaggeration would get the point through Astrid's head.

"Yes. I'll probably be back in the morning, but no promises."

Astrid grunted bitterly and punched him hard in the arm.

"Promise," she ordered.

He didn't bother arguing; he knew better than that by now.

"I promise."

Astrid pecked him gently on the cheek before bounding away without looking back, because she knew that looking back would slow her down, and she wanted to hurry back to the village before she had second thoughts of leaving Hiccup in an obscure cove overnight. She'd try to convince herself that he was self-sufficient and could take care of himself, but that was just the thing. He probably couldn't.

Hiccup watched her go with a twinge of desolation pulling at his chest. He felt a little guilty, making her leave like that, even though he knew she probably didn't care too much.

He kicked angrily at a pebble on the ground, stirring up a flurry of dust, and growled, kicking it again. If there was one thing he hated more than the looks he got after he messed something up, it was being at a loss. He always felt compulsed to simply reach into himself and tear out the confusion and toss it far over the mountaintops, but it was never that easy.

He didn't hear Toothless' wings beating as the Night Fury descended stealthily into the cove.

As he settled back onto the boulder he'd been sitting on with Astrid, he groaned and mumbled something he found himself saying a bit too often: "The gods hate me."

He heard a faint snuffling behind him that he recognized immediately, and he couldn't help the grin that split over his face when he turned and saw Toothless sitting behind him, his ears twitching curiously.

"Hey, bud," he greeted him, reaching up and scratching him behind the ear. Toothless shuddered happily and warbled.

Hiccup smirked a little. "If it's not Astrid, it's you. No privacy."

Toothless looked offended and bumped against Hiccup's elbow with his nose. Hiccup laughed.

"Ah, don't get me wrong, Toothless; if there's anybody I'd be fine with having here, it's you." He paused and glanced around cautiously. "Don't tell Astrid that, though."

The dragon rolled his eyes and stepped forward so he was standing beside Hiccup, eyeing him worriedly. He let out a derisive puff that Hiccup assumed was supposed to be directed at his dramatic decision to flee the village, and Hiccup patted him on the back of the head, sighing.

"I know," he muttered, a bit embarrassed. "But... I can't go back there yet. Not now. Not after..." He broke off with a repressed shiver of dread.

Toothless looked surreptitiously away from his mourning master and peered toward a crevice several yards away. That was where he'd had Valhallarama hide. Now seemed like an appropriate time to bring her out.

Honestly, could humans do _anything_ themselves?

Toothless broke off from Hiccup's touch and hopped enthusiastically, chirping in the direction of Valhallarama's hiding place in hopes that she'd hear him. To his relief, he saw her poke her head out from the shadows, her eyes falling on Hiccup.

Hiccup frowned at Toothless.

"What is it?"

Toothless ignored him and kept his gaze fixed on Valhallarama, jerking his head in beckoning. Hiccup seemed to catch on because he tentatively followed Toothless' stare until his eyes, too, fell on the woman stepping out of the niche. He froze up immediately, recognizing her in an instant.

_No. Oh, gods, no. Not now._

Something fell together in his mind and he whirled furiously on Toothless, pointing an accusatory finger at the beast.

"_You_ brought her here?" he shouted, enraged. If not even his own _dragon_ could respect his privacy, then who could?

Toothless stared cynically at him, his eyes half-lidded in exasperation, before nodding. Hiccup nearly choked on his own breath at the audacity of the creature.

"Are you _kidding_?" he rasped. Toothless merely huffed before shuffling away to the other end of the cove, burning up the ground and settling into it, keeping a watchful but distanced eye on the scene playing out before him.

Hiccup couldn't tear his eyes off of the woman cautiously approaching him, much to his chagrin. The part of him that had always wanted his mother back – the part that had cried at night because one parent was, for a time, not enough – was raucously celebrating in his chest, threatening to give way to happy tears, but there was something other than that part, something harsh and bitter and resentful; the part that kicked the walls in aggravation and mulled night after night about why it wasn't good enough to have a real mother. That part was spreading like a poison through his limbs, balling his hands into fists, pushing his teeth into his bottom lip, forcing him to turn his back on his mother.

"Go away, please," he heard a voice say, a voice that he supposed was his own, but that didn't sound at all like it. The approaching footsteps ceased.

"Is that really what you want, Hiccup?" He remembered that voice singing lullabies to him between nightmares. "If it is, I'll go – I'll go and I'll never come back."

He considered her words for a long time, and considered the words of Astrid, and the unspoken advice of Toothless, and the words that he'd said to this homesick woman the night before, moments before he knew who she really was.

And finally, he managed to screw up enough strength to answer her. "No."

Whatever passed next passed in nothingness, but somewhere in the abyss he felt four fingers brush against his arm, and he heard a concerned, tear-strangled voice murmuring explanations and apologies and excuses to him, but none of that mattered, because he felt his body turn itself and felt his arms lift themselves until they were around her torso and his head was buried in her bosom as he cried like he hadn't cried in years.

A hand, warm and calloused, stroked his hair; an arm wrapped itself around his shoulders and held to him tightly; a cautious, forgotten kiss laid itself gently on his forehead, and he heard his mother say, "by the _gods_, when did you decide to grow up without me?"

That only made him cry harder.

There were thousands of possible things to say running through his head like words shot from a javelin, but somehow only one of them slowed long enough to be said. As he tightened his grip around Valhallarama and calmed his tears long enough to speak, he told her the truest thing he could think of at that moment.

"I missed you, Mom."

She kissed his forehead again.

"Well, you certainly did a fine job without me. I still can't believe your father managed to raise you right without a woman's help."

Tears gave way to laughter, wild and ragged and free, and as Toothless watched them embrace he couldn't help but feel a little moved by it, but he still expected some thanks, preferably in the form of Icelandic cod, for his efforts in making it happen.

He chuckled to himself as he laid his head down on his paws for a nap.

_Incompetence._

–

When Valhallarama left to fight in the war, the trees had turned gold and red and orange and brown, and the seas were gray with iciness, and the winds skipped briskly down from the mountains, ruffling the hair and spirit of every Viking in Berk. Three summers had passed since the one when she'd returned.

The villagers watched with pity as Valhallarama bade farewell to her husband and son and daughter-in-law, trying to ignore the rumblings of a pain once felt but never expressed. Valhallarama scooped her scrawny boy up in her arms and hugged him so tightly, his back could be heard cracking, and she kissed her husband once she found his mouth hidden in the thickness of his beard, and she whispered something to the daughter-in-law and they both giggled furtively.

"It'd better be less than fifteen years this time," Hiccup said as he hugged her once more. The boy's Night Fury nodded vigorously in agreement.

Valhallarama paid no mind to the omnipresent sinking feeling of leaving him again in her stomach and she squeezed his shoulders and promised.

When the ships slipped over the horizon and vanished, the same way they had come, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was the last one standing at the docks, and he stood there waving even after the ships could no longer be seen and the darkness fell over the cliffs, and although he knew his mother would keep her promise, he still let a few tears out, in case they would ever be needed.

Thankfully, they weren't.


	13. Afterlife

**Thanks so much for all the positive feedback on the last arc's conclusion! We are now returning to our regularly scheduled randomness. C:**

**I'd like you remind you guys again to vote in my poll! It's at my profile; I love your feedback there, so if you get the chance, go vote for your two favorite stories from this series so far.**

**Oh, and can I ask you guys a favor? Don't leave anonymous reviews and ask questions in them, because I obviously can't **_**answer**_** them. Grow a brain. Thanks. **

**Tomorrow's prompt: **_**Daybreak**_

–

Fishlegs wasn't sure that he wanted to die.

If he was lucky, it would be a long way off; long enough that he'd be able to figure it out by the time it happened. He didn't like the sound of death – the mystery of it, the imminence of the abyss. He liked being alive. Being alive was enjoyable most of the time. Death sounded like an absolutely horrible way to go.

Since his parents simply skirted around answers whenever he asked them what would happen when he died, he decided it would be a good idea to ask around the village. There were five other kids who likely were in the same predicament as he was. Best to fathom the unfathomable with help, he supposed.

He started with Hiccup, because Hiccup seemed to be the smartest out of all of them, even if he was a bit weird, with his skinny chicken legs and unusual flare of auburn hair and nasally stammer.

"Hiccup, what d'you think happens when we die?"

Hiccup stopped flaring up the forge when he heard Fishlegs speak. He glanced up, blowing out a breath and wiping the excessive sweat from his brow. His green eyes flicked up to Fishlegs, whose head and shoulders were squeezed eagerly through the window.

"Huh?" Hiccup grunted, and Fishlegs wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't heard him or he was just surprised by the question. Toothless cocked his head at them from his napping spot in the far corner.

"Where do we go when we die?" Fishlegs repeated. This was a good idea. Hiccup would surely come up with an excellent answer.

"Well. That's, uh. I mean..." He rubbed the back of his neck in thought. "I think they just bury us and we eventually decompose into the dirt and the maggots eat our flesh and stuff. I mean – scientifically speaking, that's what happens. We don't go anywhere. We're just dead."

Toothless shook his mighty head and huffed exasperatedly.

Fishlegs' face sagged. That wasn't a good answer.

"Okay; thanks," he mumbled forlornly, retreating from the window and shuffling down the hill to find Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Hiccup called after him, "no problem!"

Ruffnut and Tuffnut were in an empty sheep pasture, going at each other with huge sticks, while Snotlout looked on, sitting on the fence, guffawing at their ineptitude. Fishlegs couldn't quite hear what they were saying as he approached, but whatever it was resulted in Ruffnut leaping on top of Tuffnut and pulling at his ear with her teeth.

"Hey, guys!" Fishlegs greeted them enthusiastically, speaking at a somewhat high volume, in hopes that it would distract them. It did for a second. They both paused for a moment, glancing up at him without detaching from each other, before returning to their clawing and punching and shouting.

"What's up, Fatty?" Snotlout answered with a jeer that Fishlegs honestly couldn't tell was feigned or genuine.

"What d'you guys think happens when we die?"

Snotlout regarded him in silence for a moment before breaking into knowing laughter, hopping off the fence and slinging one beefy arm around Fishlegs' enormous shoulders.

"Oh, Fishlegs. We all head up to the big orgy in the sky, obviously!" He sounded incredibly certain of himself.

This thought made Fishlegs a bit uncomfortable. He didn't want to be in an eternal orgy with Snotlout and Tuffnut.

Tuffnut nodded vigorously in agreement through his sister's vicious headlock.

"Yeah; it'll be _so_ awesome." The perfect half-moon Thorston grin split over his face, making him look maniacal.

"Oh, shut _up_, you pervert," Ruffnut groaned with a roll of her eyes, releasing him and kicking him down. "When we die, it's going to suck. What good could come out of dying? We probably go to some horrible place and burn for all eternity."

"W-Well," Fishlegs squeaked, his cheeks reddening, "it... probably won't be so bad if... if you're there."

He beamed at her through his gapped teeth. She cocked an eyebrow at him, her face completely deadpan.

"Uhh, what's your point?"

"Nothing," Fishlegs replied hurriedly, staring at his toes.

"Dude, quit hitting on my sister," Tuffnut hissed, smirking.

"Um, thanks guys; I'll see you later!"

Three unanimous grunts of "yeah" followed his parting words, and Fishlegs resolutely made his way over the hill toward the woods, where he knew he'd find Astrid chucking axes at some poor tree. She was his last hope.

Rotting and being eaten by maggots sounded dismal. Going to a massive orgy for all eternity sounded appalling. Burning in a bad place didn't sound very excellent, either.

He hoped Astrid would have something more pleasant to suggest.

As he strolled between the trees, inhaling the scent of nature, he was suddenly interrupted by an enormous axe slicing into a tree just inches in front of him. He gave a peep of terror and stumbled backwards, his eyes crossed on the blade.

He heard panting behind him and, sure enough, Astrid somersaulted past, landing like a cat on her feet and yanking the axe out of the tree like a knife out of melted butter.

"Oh—" she exclaimed breathlessly, noticing his presence. "It's you, 'Legs. Need something?"

"Um," Fishlegs gulped. Hiccup was brave to fall in love with someone who could dismember him in seconds. "Yeah, actually."

"Well, shoot it at me; I don't have all day."

"What, uh," Fishlegs fidgeted, "Do you know what happens when we die?"

Astrid blinked at him, her stormy eyes wide and bright among the glistening dirt and sweat smudges on her face. She stopped panting for a moment, tossing her bangs aside, even though they stuck to her forehead on sweat.

"We go to Valhalla," she answered slowly, eying him skeptically. "I thought everybody knew that."

Fishlegs swallowed.

"Do we? My mom told me only people who die in combat get to go there."

"So die in combat," Astrid replied briskly, pulling a stray thread out of her glove with her teeth, "and it'll be easy."

That wasn't helpful at all.

"Otherwise you go to Hel. That's where you go if you've never done anything really good or anything really bad. That's where pretty much everyone goes."

"I don't want to die in battle," Fishlegs squawked. "It sounds painful."

Astrid blew her hair out of her eye.

"Pain is necessary for living sometimes," she said sincerely. "But good things always come out of it eventually."

Fishlegs nodded thoughtfully.

"Hiccup says we rot and decompose."

"Hiccup's an idiot."

"And Snotlout and Tuffnut says there's a huge orgy somewhere."

"And you'd _really_ believe them?"

"And Ruffnut says we go somewhere... bad."

"That's because Ruffnut is probably going there. That doesn't mean _you're_ going there."

"Really?"

"_Yes_," Astrid replied, throwing her head back in exasperation. "Fishlegs, I swear on my father's grave that you will be fine when you die. We all will. We'll die together. That way you won't be alone. Happy now?"

He knew she was just saying those things for the sake of getting him to shut up, but they meant a lot to him anyway. He couldn't help the grin that came across his face.

"Yeah," he replied honestly. "Thanks, Astrid!"

"Great. I'm off, then." And with that, she bounded back into the trees, her battle cry echoing off the moss-laden boulders and frightening all nearby wildlife.

Fishlegs continued smiling as he walked back to the village, and he'd never realized how beautiful the sunsets were until now.


	14. Daybreak

**As soon as I saw what this prompt was, the very first thing that came into my head was Snow Patrol's song of the same name. I recommend you look it up and listen while you read. (The song is called "Daybreak," in case that wasn't clear.) Because this story is entirely based upon it.**

**Disclaimer: **_**I may have written this story, but the characters and setting wherein are not mine in the slightest. The book How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Cressida Cowell and the film belongs to Chris Sanders and Dean DeBlois.**_

– –

The storm came with a fury and Hiccup swore the world was shattering.

Lightning struck and broke the sky into pieces; the ocean swelled and roared and bursts of foamy white broke off into the night; rain tumbled in torrents and drenched the roofs until they caved in; thunder bellowed and shook the earth; gusts of unforgiving wind ripped the treetops apart.

Then the flood came.

The waves of the sea were reaching for somewhere beyond the sky, their rage pulling them to fearsome heights. When the first of the many to follow tore up past the cliffs the village hid behind and smashed its watery fist into the ground, it was a wonder anyone survived. (But the Vikings of Berk had gotten pretty good at defying the laws of nature.)

After the first came a second, and a third, and a fourth, and more, and soon the swirling water was up to everyone's chests. The children were clinging to the heads of the tallest person they could find. The Elder was being carried by a particularly burly fellow. The flood was not a single disaster; it was surrounded by a great deal of others – thunder and lightning and sleet and wind and cold.

Hiccup couldn't stand the shouting. As he strained to keep his chin above the rising water level, shielding himself from the unending onslaught of high crashing waves, he tried to process it all. Bolts. Explosions in the sky. Rain stinging his eyes. Screaming, bellowing, crying out. Freezing. Falling trees. _Storm_.

When he'd seen the water coming, he had told Toothless to run. He didn't care if he himself lived or died; he didn't care how much the dragon would argue. Dragons could not survive in water unless they were specifically created for it. Their fiery hearts would wither. The Night Fury's enormous eyes had pleaded, and thrice Toothless had tried to swoop down and sweep Hiccup up, away from this place, but each time a fresh rush of water would come and Hiccup would be temporarily lost and Toothless could do nothing.

An enormous relief came over his shivering body as he watched Toothless fly away, leading the other dragons high to the mountains, where the water could not reach them. A crash of ocean and he was under again, clawing for the surface, choking on the brown murkiness shrouding his lungs. Berk had not seen a storm this fearsome in centuries.

As he flailed beneath the crushing weight of the water, many meaningless things flung themselves across his mind – the cinnamon smell of his mother; Toothless as he spun around the dirt and made lines Hiccup could never decipher; Gobber scolding him as he stared guiltily at an axe he had broken; the bounce of Astrid's braid in the summer sunset; the frantic beating wings of a moth he'd caught when he was four; the breeze through the poplar boughs.

He broke the surface and gasped, long and deep and ragged, against the onslaught of the storm. A horrible pain – the pain of helplessness – tremored viciously through him and he hardly noticed that, in the midst of all the other things, he was crying. He wondered if his house had fallen. He wondered where his father was. He wondered if Snotlout had learned how to swim since they were children. He wondered what Asgard was like and he tried to remember what he'd had for breakfast. Frivolous things. But he clung to them. They kept him afloat.

His scrawny legs ached from their rhythmic treading, but he forced himself with all his might not to stop, because he knew as his face looked to the black sky that he was not going to drown. He would not allow himself to drown.

Out of the shouting and the thundering and the pouring and the crashing came, miraculously, a touch – a tug, a grasp, the sound of labored panting in his ear. Someone was holding tightly to him, afraid to let go. A voice found him as he floundered weakly and it ignited him, though he did not hear what it said.

Astrid held on to him and they braved the storm together.

When he would tire, she would not allow him to cave; she could not swim, and without him, she would drown. This impossible weakness to her otherwise unblemished power would ordinarily have warranted some realization from him. But nothing mattered now. Nothing but moving his arms and making it through and keeping Astrid's arms on him.

Astrid held on to him and suddenly, he felt good for something. Something immense and real and fated: keeping her safe.

At some point, he was half-aware of dragons shrieking around him as they swept as many struggling souls as they could into their wings and carried them to safety.

When he and Astrid came to, the sun broke through the clouds and lit the world aglitter, and the gathered bulbs of water scattered over Berk sparkled as the flood drained in waterfalls, far into the calm gray sea.


	15. Audience

**I... I'm sorry.**

**Disclaimer: **_**I may have written this story, but the characters and setting wherein are not mine in the slightest. The book How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Cressida Cowell and the film belongs to Chris Sanders and Dean DeBlois.**_

**Next Prompt: **_**Endless sorrow**_

– –

Hiccup's hand was up Astrid's skirt.

He didn't know how it had gotten there, exactly. One second his fingers had been stiff and stinging from the cold air around them, and the next they were resting between the fur inside her skirt and the woolen surface of her leggings. It was amazingly warm up there, on her buttocks. The feeling was starting to come back to his fingers.

To his vague astonishment, she didn't draw away from him or knee him in the groin or smack him upside the head. Instead he felt a smile come across her lips in his, and her nose and cheeks were a shiny pink and steamy breath spilled from her nostrils. Hiccup was surprised that he had dared to touch her. Usually he was afraid to, unless it was a hug. He never knew with Astrid whether he'd come out giddy from kisses or bruised from well-aimed knuckles.

They kissed in the glittering whiteness of the dawn, their hair damp from the falling snow. The thick rabbit fur around the collar of Astrid's deep blue coat wavered in the breeze. Hiccup felt her teeth chattering and wrapped his free arm tight around her shoulders.

They didn't need to come up to breathe. They'd gotten pretty good at that.

Hiccup was so bold as to start moving his hand around, and Astrid seemed to enjoy it, pressing herself closer up to him, her tongue seeking warmth behind his teeth. He felt dizzy and squeezed her posterior and she snorted and said something along the lines of how it wasn't an overripe fruit; he didn't need to be so gentle.

Snotlout and Tuffnut stifled their snickers as they watched them.

"Man, look at Hiccup _go_," Snotlout hissed gleefully. "Didn't think he had it in him."

"I know, right?" Tuffnut agreed. "Oh, by the way, Legs, you owe me five."

Fishlegs sagged sadly as Ruffnut let out her signature snorting cackle, clapping him on the back.

"I can't be_lieve_ you actually thought he'd wait until they got married, Legs."

Fishlegs shrugged. "I dunno. I'm allowed to have faith. It's not like he's going to cart her off to his house and..." His voice hushed. "And _lie_ with her."

As though the gods themselves were mocking him, Fishlegs watched as Hiccup suddenly swept Astrid up in his arms and carried her up the snowy hill towards the smoking chimney of his house.

Snotlout and Tuffnut fell to the ground in laughing fits.

"We're Vikings," Ruffnut said slyly. "It's an occupational hazard."


	16. Endless Sorrow

**A million thanks to the lovely Calico for giving me this idea and letting me use it. She is undoubtedly one of the best writers for this fandom, so it means a lot. c: **

**Oh, and since I'm late with this, I'll be updating during the weekend. Rejoice!**

–

Astrid's footsteps were silent as she walked toward the altar.

The studs on her headdress glinted in the bright glitter of the sun overhead. The fog had scattered that morning, and the breezes that skirted over the treetops were balmy. The grass swayed verdantly around the train of her snowy gown, pushing her on.

She looked beautiful, Hiccup thought.

The vows were made as a flock of seagulls swept over the ceremony, and Astrid's thickly braided bun rested at the nape of her neck and shone like a sunset.

As Hiccup stood in the crowd and watched the marriage, he felt nothing.

Just before they ceremoniously kissed, both Snotlout and Astrid's eyes found him in an instant. Helpless apologies wavered in them.

Hiccup turned away and left as the crowd erupted in cheers.


	17. Fireworks

**Over 100 reviews? I'll go die happy now. 3**

**Oh. My. Bloody. God. I have **_**no damn idea**_** why this took me so long to write. None at all. God.**

**I had actually gotten a huge chunk of it out of the way, and then my computer did some stupid thing and made me shut it down. And I write these in TextEdit (don't ask my why I don't use Word; I just don't, not for these), so there's no autosave. So... yeah. Bye, fic.**

**Anyway, I am INCREDIBLY sorry that this is so appallingly late. I'm praying I'll be able to get back into my regular update schedule with Thanksgiving around the corner and all (WOOOO BREAK WOOOO).**

**Plus, this one's a bit cuter and fluffier, since the last one was so depressing. I AM KIND TO YOU TODAY.**

**Enjoy!**

– – –

Hiccup had been searching for a way to cheer up Astrid for the past four hours and had come up with an absolutely incredible nothing.

When he had seen the crestfallen look on her face as her father waved good-bye from his retreating ship to the Dragon's Nest, Hiccup had known that he had to fix it. He wasn't entirely sure how yet, but he would.

Since her father's departure, she had been in a considerably moody snit, tossing her axe at unsuspecting barrels and driving a fist into Snotlout's face whenever he so much as uttered a syllable. Hiccup, like nearly everyone else in the village, had known to give her a wide berth.

That had been yesterday. He hadn't seen her smile in a day, and he knew that he had to be the one to bring it back. True, he wasn't the best equipped for such a monumental task, but by Odin's beard itself, he was certainly going to try.

He had been combing the woods all day for some sort of acceptable gift for her. A bouquet of wildflowers? No. Astrid hated flowers. She scowled at the sight of them. Said they weren't Viking-ly. Perhaps he could carve her a figurine out of redwood bark? No, no, that wouldn't work at all; Astrid wasn't to be trusted with fragile things. (That was one thing they had in common.)

He considered the possibility of writing her a poem, but then he remembered that Astrid vomited at the mere mention of poetry; making her a new axe was a viable option, but he had wanted to save such a thing for a special occasion, like maybe when he married her. (It was easy to have such big dreams, being only thirteen.)

A sharp gust of the autumn wind swept down through the trees and slammed into his back, slicing easily through his wool tunic, and he shivered. As much as he wanted to continue wandering the woods, he knew it was high time he headed home. Night fell swiftly in the fall, and he didn't want to be caught out in the forest when it did.

The hike back to Berk was tough and tiring, as the wind was blowing against him and it was getting dark. The sole thing on his mind was he trudged up the hill to his house was getting a fire started.

Ordinarily, there would already be one waiting for him, but Stoick had headed out on the voyage as well, leaving Hiccup to tend to himself. He was a big lad now, Stoick had said. He could handle things like that.

Hiccup pulled open the mighty wooden door and had just enough time to slip in before the gusts slammed it shut. He stood still against the door for a moment, listening to his breath fill the dim emptiness.

"Dad, I'm home!" he called out, raising his arms enthusiastically. "Did you miss me?"

Only the silence answered him, and his hands dropped back to his sides as he sighed and murmured, "Nope. Guess not."

He began the task of making dinner for himself and starting a fire, a chore he was used to. Sometimes the loneliness was a blessing; other times he could hardly stand it. He couldn't decide which he felt at the moment.

As he worked, he ignored the note written in his father's scratchy handwriting that laid on the table. He never bothered to look at them anymore. They never meant anything.

_Son—_

_Take care of yourself while I'm gone and don't break anything._

_There is a bundle of new wood by the fireplace. __Do not use it__. Use the logs from the usual pile._

_If I don't make it back, both you and Gobber know the proper ceremonies for initiating Snotlout as the new Chief._

_I'll be thinking of you._

—_Stoick_

Without glancing at the words for a second, Hiccup snatched the paper off the table and crumpled it up, tossing it into the fireplace with the kindling. His eyes fell on the neatly wrapped bundle of dry gray logs leaning against one brick side of the fireplace and he smiled to himself.

"Wow, a whole bundle of fresh wood. I'm glad you care, Dad."

He unraveled the twine and heaved three logs into the fireplace on top of the kindling, taking the two pieces of flint from their tray on the mantle and slicing them together a few times. At last, a spark lit the kindling and a soft flame spread out in the fireplace, warming him immediately.

He turned and crawled into his father's enormous, fur-covered chair, curling up in it, looking inordinately small as he wrapped his arms around his bony knees.

He noticed, absentmindedly at first, that one of the logs had started to burn a vivid green.

He blinked, stared, and blinked again. The two other logs were taking on flames of the red and blue variety. He continued to watch in dumbfounded astonishment as one of the logs promptly exploded. A noisy burst of bright green sparks appeared, then another, and another, and then the other two logs joined in, and soon the combustions of color were firing off in every direction.

Hiccup yelped and leaped for cover behind the chair, putting his hands over his ears as the walls of the room were flooded with shade after bold shade of flames. It was beautiful and fantastic and terrifying, and when it finally died down, Hiccup cautiously crept back out into the open and only one thing crossed his mind: something so like Astrid could not be wasted.

"_Perfect_."

–

"Astrid!"

Hiccup supposed in retrospect that he shouldn't have snuck up on the blonde, as he suddenly found himself pinned on his back into the grass, the blade of an axe pressing into his poorly developed Adam's apple. Astrid's gold hair fell so close to his face that it tickled.

Her bloodthirsty expression momentarily gave way to a softer one, but it only lasted for a second before morphing into her usual annoyed frown.

"Oh, it's _you_." She sounded extremely unimpressed. "Don't sneak up on me like that." As she clambered off of him, her eyes flashed threateningly in his direction, practically knocking the wind out of him. "Next time you might not be so lucky."

"Astrid," he heard himself say, still lying on the ground. "Astrid. Yep. Astrid. No sneaking up! Got it. Aye, aye. Listen, I just wanted to say – that is I wanted to ask you? – if maybe—"

"Are you going to stand there blathering all day, or what?" Astrid snapped.

"Blathering!" he blurted out, bouncing to his feet with a finger in the air. "No, no, not at all! I mean, I was just, um, Astrid; I wanted to—"

"Hiccup." He had never heard anyone groan so loudly. Astrid's head dropped back over her shoulders and she glowered at the sky instead of him. "In the name of all that is holy, what do you _want_?"

"You!" he yelped without thinking. He could tell this was entirely the wrong answer as she started to advance on him with increasing murderousness. "I mean, no, wait; I don't want you at all!" Apparently this was even worse, as evidenced by the axe that had returned to his throat. He closed his eyes tightly, awaiting what he was sure would be death, and squeaked, "Gaaahhh no I mean, I just wanted to show you something tonight at Raven Point so please be there and don't kill me because I like being alive and—!"

"Oh, shut up." The axe was off of his jugular now. He felt a bit faint from relief and toppled down onto his rump, gaping up at her. She raised her eyebrow, slinging the weapon over her shoulder. The sun was right behind her head. She looked like a goddess. A very frightening goddess. "Yeah, sure; I'll see you there. Can't promise the part about not killing you, though."

She gave him one more ferocious squint before stomping away, her braid bouncing angrily behind her. Hiccup watched her go and smiled a little.

–

The night was freezing and Hiccup was certain that there would be frost that morning. As he waited for Astrid, he couldn't help but think of his father.

When he'd been younger, he admitted that he had hungered to join Stoick on his voyages, and always felt a bit put-out when he was told that he couldn't. While the other children found consolation in their mothers when their fathers departed, Hiccup sat curled in Stoick's chair and cared for himself, learning to enjoy the loneliness.

Tonight, he wondered if his father would be proud of him, courting Astrid and all that. When he'd first made his affection for her apparent, Stoick had seemed a bit hesitant to encourage him, as though afraid that he would not succeed in his pursuit. For that reason, Hiccup knew he absolutely had to prove him wrong. Whether Astrid would let him was a different matter entirely.

Hiccup exhaled and his breath clouded in front of him, dissipating out into the night. He felt stupid standing on the edge of the cliff with the cumbersome contraption he'd built for the occasion. The more he'd thought about it over the course of the day, the less likely it seemed that Astrid would show up at all. She may have just been humoring him. People had been known to do that.

He heard a twig crack behind him and jumped, whirling around to find the source of the sound. The silhouette of Astrid was sharp in the darkness; her hair seemed almost white as the moonlight shifted through it. She seemed a bit unbalanced aesthetically – it took Hiccup a moment to realize it, but she did not have her axe, or any weapon of the like. It threw him off in the most lovely way possible.

She spotted him and made her way toward him with a certain degree of surreptitiousness. He couldn't blame her. He wouldn't want to be seen with himself on some coastal clifftop at night.

She came to a halt beside him, her head bowed, her arms folded defiantly. She stared at the ground as she rocked back and forth on her heels, running her hands along her forearms. She let loose a shiver.

Hiccup stared at her.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"No," she snarled back with a rather intimidating amount of forcefulness.

"U-Um," Hiccup gulped, "if you'd... you know... like to borrow my vest, you can—"

"I don't need to borrow anything; I'm fine," she snapped. "What'd you make me come out here for anyway, Hiccup Haddock? I have so many better things to do than sit here and listen to you stammer."

"I didn't make you come anywhere; you could've just skipped out." She didn't answer and Hiccup smiled subtly in triumph. "Anyway, as for the... why I asked you to come here part..." He cleared his throat. "I just thought that... y'know... with your dad gone and all—"

By the way she stiffened beside him and began to radiate a hot aura of fury, Hiccup knew he'd picked the wrong thing to bring up.

"I mean, that is..." He scrambled to make up for his error. "I just wanted to d-do something nice for you. I kinda figured this out a couple of days ago by accident and it reminded me of something you'd like, and..."

"Figured what out?" she asked, and there was a faint tinge in her voice of genuine curiosity. Hiccup grinned. That was his cue.

"Well," he breathed, and he turned to the catapult, using the flint to light the first log before taking the controls, "watch."

He pulled the wooden lever and the log was jettisoned high into the air. He prayed that he had calculated the time before combustion correctly.

As the log ascended, a trail of green flames followed it. Astrid squinted up at it. Just as it seemed that it reached the zenith of its trajectory, there was a crackling noise and it burst into a shower of green sparks.

Hiccup turned expectantly to Astrid, and saw that her face was finally turned to the moonlight and he could see it properly. The nacreous white craters and drifting green sparks reflected vividly in her blue eyes. Her mouth was agape with bewilderment. She had stopped shivering; her hands were off her arms.

He heard a word come from her, and it was the finest word he had ever heard: "again."

He obliged her, and this time the sparks were yellow; he fired off another two and they were blue and turquoise. The entire time, he could not bring himself to take his eyes off of Astrid, off of the dazzling smile on her face, off of the way she seemed to look like a divinity at the end of a rainbow as the colors lit up her cheeks, in hues of wildflowers and silk. Her shrieks of delight echoed off the treetops, and her eyes were so wide and radiant that he swore they could swallow the moon and still outshine it.

He kept shooting out logs until there weren't any left, until the traces left in the sky were so bountiful that he could not see the stars. He couldn't feel his arms, but he didn't care. He fell back onto the grass, spread-eagled and immensely proud of himself, and stared up into the sky, sighing blissfully as the breeze skirted across his forehead.

After a moment, he sensed another form lying down beside him. He rolled his head over and saw Astrid, gazing in the same direction as he, her hair feathered out around her like an ocean.

"That was..." she whispered, straining to think of an adequate word. "_Amazing_." She turned her head to look him in the eye and he felt free. "You're amazing."

He couldn't help but grin at her a little goofily, and she smiled back, an expression he would not see for a long time to come. Another shudder rippled through her and she hissed through her chattering teeth. Without a word, Hiccup pulled his thick fur vest off of his shoulders and draped it over her.

She frowned at him, perplexed, and he knew she didn't know what to make of it, but he hoped she'd resign to her confusion and let the vest lie there and warm her. She did. He'd never get that vest back.

–

Stoick had sworn that he and his crew were lost at sea forever when suddenly, out of the fog, bursts of impossible color lit up their way, and there was Berk, just ahead of them, faintly illuminated by blues and greens.

"Damn," he moaned, not much caring that his son's error had saved his life. "My _logs_."

"Don' worry." He felt a metal arm clap him on the back and winced. "I'm sure you can get plenty more b'fore Hiccup's birthday bonfire. Next time, don't put 'em in his sight. He's compelled to break everything within reach, yeh know."

"Yes, Gobber," Stoick grumbled as he steered the ship toward home. "I know."


	18. Wishing

**EXAMS ARE OVER. BREAK IS HERE. I AM FREE. REGULAR UPDATES WILL BEGIN AGAIN. HOORAAAAY.**  
**Oh, and I'm a little unnerved by the lack of Astrid. I guess my brain didn't want her here for some baffling reason.**

**_How to Train Your Dragon_ belongs to DreamWorks. Let's hope they don't ruin it with an onslaught of sequels! ...oh, wait.**

**

* * *

**

Fishlegs had the epiphany in the middle of supper.

"Great gods!" he yelped, dropping his wooden spoon with a noisy clatter, startling both of his parents. "Mom, Dad, I've got it!"

"Got what, Fishy?" his mother, Bertha, exclaimed, slamming the table in mock excitement, staring at her son with wide blue eyes. "The plague?"

"No," Fishlegs said exasperatedly.

"Then why's it important?" his father grunted, his tongue protruding from between his teeth as he concentrated on his knitting.

"Because I'm going to ask Ruffnut to marry me!" Fishlegs proclaimed, leaping to his feet, knocking the table forward with his girth. "And I'm going to do it tomorrow! And she will beat me up! But it will be beautiful and I'll convince her eventually!"

"Leapin' locusts, boy, calm down!" his father bellowed, throwing his arms out to keep the plates from falling to the floor into the eager jaws of his son's Gronckle. "This is all very exciting and all, but I'd like to hold on to my dinner if that's all right with you!"

"Oh, hush up, Bilious. You know well and good that this is the most exciting thing that's happened around this house since Fishy was born!"

"That's for sure," Bilious grumbled.

"What was that?" Bertha's normally cheery eyes narrowed into two suspicious slits, and Bilious cowered under them, clinging to his knitting in fright.

"Nothing, love," he replied with enough innocence to melt a Nightmare's heart.

"Mom," Fishlegs breathed eagerly, hoping to direct their attention back to his moment of glory, "how did Dad propose to you?"

"Oh, you know, the usual way," Bertha sighed with a wave of her hand. "Chucked me over his shoulder and had his way with me and that was that."

"I did _not_!" Bilious protested, sounding extremely miffed. "Don't listen to the woman, Fishlegs; she's mad with age. It was a very lovely winter day and I got down to my knees in the snow and asked her to be mine forever, and _she_ dropped her bundle of firewood on my head and told me that she'd sooner die."

"That is _not_ how it happened, you old fool," Bertha barked. "I threw my arms around your neck and told you yes until I couldn't stand the sound of the word anymore!"

"The way you were acting, you couldn't stand it to begin with!"

"Oh, shut your trap and finish your knitting!"

Fishlegs had lost his interest in his parents' argument several minutes ago and had fallen into a plummeting pit of thought, staring pensively at his chicken leg as ideas rapidly solidified themselves in his head. The more detailed his plan became, the more foolproof it felt, and as he lay in bed that night, he stared at his ceiling without a wink of sleep, his tiny heart drumming in anticipation. He would not bungle this. Love could not be bungled.

–

Fishlegs wasn't aware of it, but by the next morning, the entire village knew of the imminent proposal. Thankfully (and by means of Tuffnut's handiwork), practically the only person who _hadn't_ heard about it was Ruffnut.

Tuffnut had recognized the look in his chubby friend's eyes the moment it had appeared, and was not at all surprised when he traced the source of the expression back to the bouncing braids of his sister. He hadn't the faintest idea how Fishlegs was going to manage it, proposing to her, but he had faith to a certain degree. After all, Fishlegs had surprised them before, and that had been by winning Ruffnut's affections in the first place.

Fishlegs spent the day weaving around the village with an excitable glimmer in his pupils and a permanent grin plastered onto his face. Tuffnut and Snotlout steered Ruffnut away from his proximity whenever the two came even vaguely close to each other, and though brains were not Ruffnut's primary virtue, she was at least perceptive enough to know that they were plotting something, which bothered her profusely. After the fifth roundabout way had been taken to Gobber's smithy, she put her foot down.

"All right, lice-for-brains! What's going on?" she snarled as Tuffnut clutched his now-bruised toes in agony.

"I-It's really nothing, Ruff!" Snotlout was the worst liar in all of Berk. "We're just, uh, trying to... help you get more exercise!"

Ruffnut wheeled on him and her braids sliced after her like vines. Her eyes stabbed viciously into him.

"Are you saying I'm fat?" she shrieked, leaping onto him and aiming her fist for his eye.

"No, no!" Snotlout wailed, flailing around helplessly. "I mean, there's – there's nothing wrong with a dragon-esque figure!"

Ruffnut let out a scream of fury and clawed at him even more murderously, resulting in several pained howls on his part and a couple of guffaws from Tuffnut.

"Shut up, troll-breath! You're next!"

–

Hiccup managed to catch Fishlegs in a moment of stillness when the sun was creeping down below the horizon and the pillars of smoke were starting to flow from the chimneys. He approached him with caution, for an excited Fishlegs was known to be number two on the list of "Most Dangerous Things In Berk" (after Hiccup, of course).

Fishlegs was standing at the edge of one of the sea cliffs with his Gronckle, who was snoozing and snuffling and rolling around in the grass. He was facing toward the setting sun, gazing up at the dimming sky.

Hiccup limped toward him.

"Hey, Legs," he greeted his friend cautiously, hoping not to startle him. On the contrary, Fishlegs turned his head and beamed happily at Hiccup, not looking surprised in the slightest.

"Oh, hi, Hiccup!" he replied cheerfully. "Great day, huh? Just look at that sunset!"

"Uh-huh," Hiccup mumbled absentmindedly, hobbling forward to stand beside him. "Hey, listen, uh... you're not... planning something, are you?"

"Planning something?" Fishlegs repeated innocently, looking back out over the ocean.

"Yeah. You know, like... a party, or..." Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck hesitantly. "A... proposal?"

_Subtle._

Fishlegs blinked momentarily and shot a sideways glance at Hiccup before sighing and dropping his hands to his sides.

"Yeah, you got me." He let out a defeated grumble. "I'm going to ask Ruffnut to marry me tomorrow."

Hiccup couldn't help the enormous grin that split across his face. He clapped Fishlegs on the back and cringed – the larger boy was practically made of steel. He had been unsure about prodding his friend, but he couldn't stand the uncertainty any longer.

"That's fantastic, Fishlegs!" he exclaimed, and he meant it. Fishlegs seemed to dissolve into ecstasy at his approval. "Wh – how? I mean, how're you going to ask her? Have you commissioned Gobber for a ring yet? I haven't seen any orders around work; maybe he's hiding them from m—"

"Um, well, actually, I'm glad you asked." Fishlegs cut him off with a little firmness, smiling sheepishly. "I need to ask a favor."

"Sure, bud. Anything." The art of marriage and requesting it was still lost on Hiccup, much to Astrid's well-concealed chagrin. It rested between them with a shivering imminence. He admired his friend incredibly for screwing up the courage and dedication to do it.

"I commissioned Gobber for the ring, but I... I was actually hoping that _you_ could make it."

Hiccup blinked, taken aback.

"Me?" he repeated, pointing to his chest for emphasis.

"Yeah. I-I mean," Fishlegs added hastily, "if it's not too much trouble or anything."

"No!" Hiccup exclaimed. "I mean, that is, no, it's not any trouble at all!" He smiled warmly and stretched his arm up to put his hand on Fishlegs' shoulder. "I'd be honored."

Quite unexpectedly, Fishlegs suddenly turned and swept Hiccup up into his arms and gave him an embrace that nearly crushed the scrawnier Viking's bones. Hiccup felt his feet lift off the ground and choked as Fishlegs' burly arms happily squeezed him.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Hiccup!" Fishlegs exclaimed, squeezing tighter – Hiccup was fairly certain he felt his stomach deflate. "You are the greatest friend _ever_ and the coolest Viking _ever_ and I don't know how I'll ever repay you—"

"Ack," Hiccup gurgled. "You can start by... p-putting me d-down. Or – hck! – letting me... l-live to see the m-marriage!"

"Huh? Oh," Fishlegs squeaked sheepishly, quite literally dropping Hiccup as though he was a scalding Nightmare egg. "Sorry. Don't know my own strength."

Hiccup gave him a weary thumbs-up after checking that all of his organs were intact. He didn't mind being temporarily suffocated, really. The gleeful look on Fishlegs' face was worth every second of it.

He headed back to Gobber's straight away and didn't sleep at all that night, his eyes watching the metal swirl and the embers flicker as he fashioned a dainty ring out of iron and Toothless' shedded scales from the previous spring. When he held the ring up to the light later, it glistened with a strange blue surge, as soft and as smoky as the night sky.

He refused to let Fishlegs pay for it.

–

The ivory glow of the moonlight illuminated Ruffnut's pale blue eyes as she laid beside Fishlegs and watched the stars.

Their fingers were entwined, her slender ones slipping gracefully in amongst his. He hadn't looked at the sky in several minutes, instead rolling his head to the side and staring at her, sighing distantly. She was doing an amazing job of ignoring him.

There was quiet in the village save for the sound of the crickets and the roll of the sea. Fishlegs and Ruffnut were settled atop the roof of Fishlegs' house, an activity they often undertook when the skies were clear. They barely spoke at all most of the time. There wasn't any need to.

One of Fishlegs' favourite things about Ruffnut was that she almost never blinked. That was how, when she let out a long, drawn-out sigh and her eyelashes batted lazily together, he knew it was time.

"Ruffnut?" he murmured.

"Mm? What, 'Legs?" she grunted back, using her free hand to pick at her teeth. "You don't need to go to the bathroom, do you?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off by suddenly breaking into her flawless moon-sliver grin and pointing directly above them.

"Look, bright-eyes! There's the wishing star!"

And indeed, there it was – the brightest, biggest star in the galaxy, blinking and burning blue down over them. It reflected in Ruffnut's eyes like a diamond.

"Make a wish, quick!" she hissed, and she squeezed his fingers.

"You know what the first thing I ever wished for was?" he whispered into her ear. She snorted.

"To lose a few pounds?"

"N..." He frowned. This was not at all going like it had been in his head. "No. No, of course n—"

"A new pair of flight goggles?"

"_No_; I obviously wished a lot earlier than when we started riding the—"

"Oh! No! I've got it!" She moved one hand across the space above them as though envisioning words on a sign. "Wishing Star so bright, I wish for WOMEN tonight!"

"No!" he insisted, turning radish-red as she cackled. "I wished for—"

"Oh, for Odin's sake, Fishlegs, get to the point, will ya?" she groaned, finally looking him in the eye and raising an eyebrow. "I'm bored with guessing."

"I wished for you!" he blurted out, much more loudly than he had intended to, and his eyes closed tightly on instinct, his body tensing for an impact he seemed to be under the impression was coming. "I wished that we would get married one day and that we could have babies and that I could go around telling everyone that I had the most beautiful wife _ever_ and – and – oh gods please don't hurt me."

After a moment's painful silence, a silence that caused Fishlegs greater anxiety than anything he had ever encountered, Ruffnut managed to come up with a response.

"...What?" Even with his eyes closed, he could sense her rolling towards him, propping herself up on her arm.

"Ruffnut!" he yelped, grabbing both of her hands and pulling the ring out of his pocket. "I've asked your father for your hand in marriage and he has given his consent for you to be my wife? W-Will you..."

He swallowed, his voice and eyes softening as he looked at her.

"Will you have me?"

Ruffnut stared at him, and stared, and stared further. Her hands were limp in his grip. He was holding the ring centimeters away from her third finger.

A wave of something seemed to wash over her – almost imperceptible; Fishlegs could see it pass through her eyes like the swooping path of an eagle.

"_What_?" she repeated, leaning in toward him, her eyes protuberant.

"Ruffnut," Fishlegs said, and her name was like a pair of wings unfolding. "I'm in love with you, and I want to marry you."

Silence again, and her eyes were as still and as luminescent as the nacreous orb above them. She pulled her hands away and stared at him a little longer before slowly raising her right arm and extending her fingers toward the ring.

"Well, what're you waiting for, fat-boy?" she whispered, and Fishlegs was astounded to hear something like happiness and tears in the back of her throat. "That ring ain't gonna put its _self_ on me."

He fumbled in his ecstasy before slipping it onto her finger, and it fit her perfectly – he commended Hiccup's handiwork. He and Ruffnut stared down at her hand, and then back up at each other.

"You know what I wished for?" she said after a moment, not breaking eye contact. Fishlegs' stomach caught. Had she wished for him?

"No. What?" he breathed.

And there it was again – that wicked, mischievous grin, the one that had thrown him tongue over toes when he was young. She threw her arms around his enormous neck and hung off of it, burying her face into the fur of his vest, laughing so ecstatically she almost sounded completely bonkers.

"I wished for an extra piece of ham for breakfast!" she wailed, breathless from laughter. Fishlegs stiffened; when she felt it, she laughed harder, and pulled away from him, brushing tears from her eyes. She beamed at him, and outshone the moon in an instant. "Looks like I got one."

Fishlegs pulled her in toward his shoulder and she rested her head there, curling up against him. He patted her head cautiously.

"Forever. Yeah?" he ventured, confirming the success he wasn't quite sure if he'd had yet.

She punched him playfully in the stomach.

"And ever."

–

"What're they saying, dude?"

"Oww! Gods in Valhalla, idiot, that's my _nose_!"

"I don't know why I had to wind up on the bottom."

"Shut up, Hiccup! You're _obviously_ the strongest."

"You always did tell great jokes, cousin of mine. But I am seriously losing the feeling in my shoulder blades."

"Dude! I think they're making out!"

"Oh,_ ew_! Fatso's getting his cooties all over my sister!"

"Hey, quit fussing—"

"I wanna see—"

"Will you two _please_ hold still?"

"Shh! Not so loud!"

"Whoaaa, look at Fishlegs. Wait. Does he even have the balls to do that?"

"I'M DROPPING YOU BOTH RIGHT NOW."

"OW!"

"ARGH!"

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Shh, Fishlegs. I think I just heard my _brother_."

"Really?"

"Yeah; hang on. I'm going to go take a look. Is my axe over there?"

"Yeah. Here you go."

"Thanks. This'll just take a second."

"Guys!" Fishlegs hissed over the edge of the roof. "_Scatter_!"

Hiccup, Snotlout, and Tuffnut were all too happy to oblige him.


	19. Gone

**Um. College... has been crazy. And I was about a billion times busier over Christmas break than I have ever been during any break in my life, but it was the best kind of busy, the busy that involves seeing friends again and Christmas in general. **

**I **_**swear**_** to **_**God**_** I will resume regular updates now. I think the reason this one took me so unbelievably long to write is because the relationship between Hiccup is an extremely complex one to me, one that's really difficult to explore in just one fic, and one that... I think the movie did a great enough job building up, tearing down, and building up again. Stoick and Hiccup are the two hardest characters for me to write in terms of their interactions with each other. I swear. **_**Everyone else**_** is easy, except for Hiccup and Stoick. I could write Stoick and Fishlegs interacting better than Stoick and Hiccup. I don't know what it is. Hope I did them justice.**

**DON'T HURT ME and enjoy.**

**Don't own anyone and I'm sure they're thanking their lucky stars for that.**

–

"Congratulations, Stoick! Everyone is _so_ relieved!"

"Out with the old and in with the new, right?"

"No one'll miss _that_ old nuisance!"

"The village is throwing a party to celebrate!"

Stoick turned to Gobber, looking horrified.

"He's _gone_?"

Gobber shifted his gaze elsewhere, nodding solemnly.

"'Fraid so, Stoick. I didn' want ter have ter be the one to tell yeh, but it looks like the wee fishbone's packed his bags and left."

Stoick dropped his sack and it landed on the brittle surface of the dock with a crack.

"L-_Left_?"

"Quicker than I could blink an eye."

"Where?"

"How should I know, yeh great oaf? Fer all I know he's off frolickin' with the Night Furies halfway 'cross the sea!"

"How..." Stoick shook his mighty head as though dazed. "How long?"

"Oh, must be 'bout three weeks now. Haven't seen 'im since we tried our luck with the Nadder."

One huge palm found itself on Stoick's forehead, dislodging his snug helmet. Gobber sighed and swept up the heavy, discarded sack, tucking it under one burly arm.

"Oh, now what're you whinin' abou'?" he asked innocently as he strolled away. "It's not as if every time he steps outside, disaster falls."

He could sense Stoick freeze at his words and smirked to himself in satisfaction as the woeful presence of the chieftain ebbed behind him.

–

"Oh, how kind of you to be on time!"

Hiccup rolled his eyes as he sloppily tied the strings of the cumbersome leather apron behind his back and scampered around the forge. He didn't know why Gobber insisted on belittling him; he had only been ten minutes late. But just as Gobber often recited "a downed dragon is a dead dragon," he liked to say "a late apprentice is a fired apprentice."

"Sorry, sorry," Hiccup mumbled absentmindedly as he lugged a large, dented hammer toward the fire. "I overslept."

"Up late again, eh?" Gobber ventured, picking at his teeth disinterestedly. "Funny, Hiccup, I never though' you the bookish type. Though' you'd be out bein' brawny with the likes o' Snotlou' or Tuffnut."

"Oh, ha ha, Thor himself pales at your sense of humour," Hiccup grumbled. He let out a strained groan as he attempted to lift the hammer up onto a nearby work table. "Look, it won't happen again, okay?"

"Always pleasant in the morning," Gobber grinned. "Yer wit is at its spiciest. Now then! I don' suppose yeh heard abou' yer father pullin' in this morning?"

Hiccup promptly dropped the hammer.

"What?" he shouted, already starting to take off the apron. "And you didn't tell me?"

"Ah-ah-ah! I wouldn' go ou' there if I were you, lad," Gobber interjected cheerfully, taking a sword off the wall and starting to polish it. Hiccup froze.

"Uh. Why?"

"'Cause he's under this ridiculous impression that yeh... erm..." Gobber allowed his fingers to flutter in a pantomime. "Flew the coop?"

Hiccup's jaw dropped. "Why in the gods' name would he think that? I mean, _wish_ it, yes, _think_ it, no—"

"I told 'im so, Hiccup." With a sigh, Gobber set down the sword and folded his arms seriously. "Yeh've been goin' 'round here fer years talkin' 'bout how yer father don't love yeh, or how he's not proud of yeh, or how much he wants yeh ter get eaten by a Zippleback. An' ter be honest, I'm so bloody sick of it I could punch yeh. I did this for _you_, lad, so yeh can see jus' how much the big lug cares for yeh, an' then _maybe_ you two'll start talkin' to one another instead o' skirtin' aroun' like a coupla sissies!"

Hiccup blinked in the wake of Gobber's increasingly fervent tirade, not entirely sure how to process what he was being told. His mind was floundering uselessly, still stuck on the idea that his father was home and he needed to go meet him.

"I'm, uh..."

"Oh, stupid—_look_," Gobber put both hands on Hiccup's shoulders and shoved him toward the door, as he had first shoved him toward a raging Gronckle with nothing but a shield. "Yeh've got the day off. Wander 'round the village an' observe this bit o' handiwork, but I tell yeh, don' let Stoick see yeh until yer sure he wants to."

Hiccup stiffened indignantly.

"As if he ever wouldn't!" he snapped, feeling like a deluded liar just for saying it. As Gobber pinched his glare together in his direction he sagged and groaned, "_fine_, but I _still_ don't know what's going on."

"Glad to see some things never change," Gobber grunted. "Now get out there an' outta my way."

Hiccup was close to coming up with a retort, but it would have been to a closed door anyway, and he was already known well enough for inexplicably ranting at inanimate objects. Now didn't seem like an appropriate time to further his reputation in such fields.

He spotted flocks of people heading down toward the docks and dashed in the opposite direction, sprinting up to his house and slipping in through the back door, thumping up the stairs to his room two at a time. Stoick would wind up at the house sooner or later. He'd just wait. He could watch through the floorboards of the attic.

Briefly, he questioned his decision to go along with something Gobber had said. It was the first sane thought he felt he'd had in weeks, at least, saner than visiting a hungry Night Fury unarmed. But as he heard the front door swing open and footsteps hit the floor, he realized sanity wasn't all that interesting anyway.

He held his breath and tiptoed silently up into the loft above his room, creeping in between the hay and wool and peering down from above at Stoick, who was pacing the kitchen in agitation.

Hiccup tilted his head curiously. His father was only ever agitated if the meat wasn't cooked right.

He watched as Stoick set his bag down by the door and hung his helmet on its designated tack and lowered himself into his familiar fur-laden chair. He ran one huge, hairy hand over his face and down through his beard, allowing it to rest on his stomach.

"Hiccup?" he called, and Hiccup stiffened instinctively, but there was a certain tone of hopelessness that he did not recognize in his father's gruff burr. "I'm home, son."

Any other day, Hiccup would gave gone hopping pell-mell downstairs to greet his father after his tiring voyage, and he'd halfway want to hug him but would hesitate because he knew it would be un-Vikingly. And then maybe he'd make dinner, because Stoick was a terrible cook.

But right now, he did nothing but stay crouched in the dimness of the loft and watch.

Eventually, Stoick left, presumably to go do something incredibly Viking-ish that Hiccup could not fathom being able to handle, and Hiccup let his body untangle itself from its comfortable sitting position and lope out the door after him.

He peeked out from behind the doorjamb, wide eyes following the forlorn footsteps of his barrel-chested patriarch until the last tip of his horned helmet disappeared behind the top of a hill that hid Mead Hall.

As soon as he was certain his father was out of sight, he leapt from the doorway and sprinted harum-scarum to Gobber's, bursting in through the front door like a bolt of fire from a Gronckle's mouth.

"I thought I _told_ yeh to run on home, yeh little toothpick!" Gobber grumbled from behind the raging forge. Hiccup stared at him, panting.

"By the gods," he gasped, "you actually _did_ tell him."

"I am the most honest man on this island," Gobber stated proudly, puffing out his chest as though offended that Hiccup had ever thought otherwise. "Yeh doubted me?"

Hiccup blinked. "Yeah." Gobber scoffed, clearly affronted, and Hiccup let out an exasperated sigh before appending, "Look, Gobber, that doesn't really matter, but – I mean – I think he might... _care_."

Hiccup couldn't see it, but Gobber looked at the ceiling in nothing short of incredulity, shaking his head.

"Well done, m'boy. Never said you were anythin' if not clever! Now shoo. I don't have time for yer yammerin'. I got me an axe to make!"

"An axe?" Hiccup cocked an eyebrow. "For who?"

"Oh, yeh know, what's her name. Li'l blonde slip of a thing, can prob'ly crack me neck with her pinkie finger. The one that hates yer guts!"

Hiccup didn't need to ask anymore after that.

"Uh, look, Gobber; I'm gonna go... um, look for Dad and tell him what's going on. I mean, not that he'll be _happy_ or anything, but at least he won't... sit in his chair and look all sad for no apparent reason."

Gobber gazed exasperatedly at the ceiling again, begging the gods for an answer as to how a boy could be so incredibly stupid.

"Tha' sounds like a lovely idea, lad. Roses an' big manly hugs an' all that. Now _go away_."

Hiccup involuntarily saluted his mentor before scurrying back out into the autumn day and, without a moment's hesitation, turning right to make his way to the cove and get Toothless' opinion on all this ridiculousness.

–

"Hullo, Gobber."

Gobber glanced up from his work momentarily at the sound of the husky voice from the window, wiping sweat from his brow with the crook of his arm. Stoick was slouching sheepishly outside, his head bowed, and Gobber immediately sensed his trepidation about being unable to fit inside.

"Oh, hello, _Chief_." Gobber loved calling Stoick "Chief," as a joke. "What brings you to my humble workplace?"

"I can't find Hiccup anywhere. I don't know where on earth he's gone."

"Well, I should think you'd've arrived at tha' conclusion sooner, but eh, yeh have a way of surprisin' me." Gobber blew out a _phew_ and picked up the axe, which was near done, setting it up on a shelf to cool. He brushed one hand off on his pants and wiped his nose with his elbow, clearing his throat, before hobbling over to the window and leaning on the sill, giving Stoick a deadpan stare. The burlier man looked at him guiltily.

"Listen," Gobber said, and he ran a hand over his face as he came to the decision to tell Stoick what he was about to, "I've got a feelin' the lad's down in the cove off Raven Point. Been seein' 'im scurryin' about in that direction. If yeh want to find 'im, I suggest yeh start there."

"Oh, Gobber," Stoick murmured, and Gobber raised his eyebrows at the sudden sorrow in his comrade's voice. "When did it come to be that you knew more about my own son than I do?"

Gobber chuckled, patting Stoick's shoulder.

"Yeh never know who they decide t' trust or when, Stoick," he said gently. "But I've got a feelin' tha'... if yeh go about this the right way... he might pick someone worth the trustin'."

"He hasn't been pushing himself, has he?" Stoick asked, his brow sunken in guilt. "I-In dragon-training. Not for me?"

"No, not in the slightest. He's been doin' a magnificent job. Just... in his own way. A different way."

Stoick's eyes wandered to the ground.

"Look, Stoick," Gobber said firmly, and it wasn't often that he uttered kind words to anyone, or words of such a compassionate caliber, "I know it's hard for you to be proud of 'im, but he's doin' everythin' he does so you will be. An' at the end o' the day, I can see it in his eyes that when he does somethin' righ', he's hopin' maybe yeh'll look down at 'im an' be able to smile at… yeh know… 'all of 'im.' He's doin' his best, always has. Just b'cause he's different than you an' me doesn't mean he can't make yeh proud, an' he will, one way or another. Just needs someone to believe in 'im, that's all."

Stoick didn't particularly look like he was ready to accept those words, which didn't surprise Gobber one bit.

"Go out and look for 'im, will yeh?" Gobber implored. "I'd really like to be spared the chore of gettin' you two t' talk to each other. I've got better things t' do. Like eatin'."

Stoick frowned resolutely at the ground, his mouth pulled into a thick line beneath his beard. He sighed, the heaviest sigh Gobber had ever heard, and then shook his head.

"No. No, the boy's got to learn some sense. He can't just go running off whenever he feels it's best. He'll be back. I mean… he _needs_ the village, right? Needs food, and friends, and a nice fire burning in the hearth, and all that."

"Friends?" Gobber snorted. "_Hiccup_?"

"Oh, hush up," Stoick grunted. "You're one to talk, you old goat."

"Old?" Gobber shrieked indignantly. "Need I _remind_ yeh that I am, in fact, two weeks younger than you are?"

"You wouldn't know it by looking." Stoick chuckled, a sound he confessed himself surprised to hear at present. He glanced out the window and saw that it was growing dark. "Ah. Gonna be night soon; I'd best get back." He rose on his elbows from his leaning position on the windowsill and brushed the splinters from his forearms. "Good talk, Gobber. Good talk."

"Tha's one way of putting it," Gobber muttered sardonically, glowering at Stoick, who didn't seem to notice.

"Um. Look. If he shows up here—"

Gobber let out a bark of laughter. "There is no way in Hel that he would set one lanky leg in this place if it wasn't during his workin' hours."

"Regardless," Stoick barreled on, "if you happen to see him, point him my way, will you?"

"Just point 'im? Don't knock 'im out an' drag 'im?" Gobber asked. Stoick rolled his eyes before turning to go.

"Good _night_, Gobber."

"Yeah, an' sweet dreams to you, too!" Gobber called after him, feigning a wounded air. As he closed the window shutters and turned to start cleaning up, he looked to the ceiling in exasperation.

"_Women_."

–

Hiccup had never foreseen himself debating whether or not to enter his own house. He had never foreseen himself to be standing in front of the enormous carved door with his hands wringing, babbling out various rehearsal lines of what he could say to convince his father not to beat him over the head with a dead fish. He had never foreseen himself taming, let alone seeing, a Night Fury. And above all, he had _never_ foreseen himself preparing to tell his father all about it.

"Dad, I just want you to know that I have been feeding a Night Fury all of our fish – wait, no, no, that's stupid… um. Dad, remember how you thought I was lying about shooting down the Night Fury? I, uh, I wasn't. His name's Toothless. And he can draw! …Ugh, no, _stupid_. Er… Dad, I want you to know that you're the most important person in my life besides, in order, Gobber, Astrid, and Toothless! Wait, no, Toothless isn't a person. But anyway, while we're on the subject, Toothless! He's a Night Fury! And he let me ride on his back while we flew all over the island – whoosh – pow!" He gesticulated excitedly at the door. "Amazing! Yeah! …Dad. I'm an idiot. Thanks. I'll just go outside and jump off a cliff now. …_Eeeeuuuurghhh_." His forehead thudded against the surface of the door, and he pounded it there a couple of times. "I. Am. Such. A—"

"Hiccup?"

The door he had been about to drive his head into for a fifth time suddenly wasn't there anymore, and he lost his balance and pitched forward, right into the steely chest of his father. He was surprised the impact didn't break his face, but he felt is squash a little.

"Dad!" he squeaked, leaping backwards with a flail and standing stiffly to grin crookedly at Stoick, who looked fearsomely intimidating as he towered over him. "Afternoon, good evening, howdy-do! Uhh. Great weather we're having, am I right?"

"Hiccup," Stoick repeated, although with far less incredulity, "Where in _Thor's beard_ have you been?"

Hiccup cringed, feeling his fists ball up and his head flinch back. He bit his lip, preparing to be shouted at.

"I have been more _worried_ about you…"

Hiccup blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Suddenly his father didn't seem so tall anymore. Maybe it was because his helmet was missing. Hiccup knew that Stoick was always a bit nicer when it was off.

"Uhh." It had gotten to the point where he couldn't help the words that came out of his mouth any longer. "I… thought we'd gotten around the whole 'caring' roadblock in our relationship."

He regretted it immediately, watching Stoick's broad shoulders sag ever so slightly.

"Not that it's a problem, or anything!" he amended hastily. "I mean, caring is good. We can do caring; I like caring! Do it every day!" He swung his arms back and forth absentmindedly, as if hoping it would distract from his apparent incoherency.

"Come inside before you freeze," Stoick grumbled, yanking Hiccup inside by the back of his vest, resulting in an involuntary yelp from the scrawny boy.

Stoick used his other massive hand to push the door closed before dropping Hiccup and crossing his tree-trunk arms sternly, frowning down at Hiccup, who slouched in humility.

"Dad, look; I'm sorry. Wait. No. Why am I apologizing? It's all Gobber's fault!" He pointed in the direction of the smithy, but instead it looked like he was gesturing at the pair of Monstrous Nightmare horns mounted over the fireplace. "I didn't even _go_ anywhere! He thought that if he told you I left that it would somehow… I don't know." He paused, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. Can we just forget it?"

Stoick was about to snap that no, they could not forget it; Hiccup should learn to tell the truth and not imply that Gobber was anything but a good and honest person; then he realized how utterly ri_dic_ulous the latter half of his thoughts sounded and averted such a blunder.

He sighed and gazed pensively at Hiccup, whose eyes were darting hither and thou, everywhere except up, at Stoick's face, where he most wanted to see them go for once. He had brief flashes of Valhallarama when he had first met her, skinny and sarcastic and just a tiny bit different than the others – more clever, more intriguing, with such a rampant and skittish mind and a smile rife with crooked teeth and squinted eyes.

"Sure, son," he murmured. It was not often, he realized then, that he called Hiccup that. "We'll talk in the morning. Or, you know… sometime tomorrow. I suppose."

Hiccup visibly loosened with relief, and started to step toward the stairs, but paused. His keen eyes roved up to meet Stoick's, and the two watched each other wordlessly for a few still moments. Stoick wanted to say many things, none of which he quite knew how to say. He wanted to tell Hiccup that he was proud of him, but was he? What had Hiccup done worth taking pride in? Gobber said he'd been excelling in dragon-training, but was that true? He couldn't imagine the gawky, freckled lad in front of him doing anything but poorly in such a field, hiding behind a shield and talking his way out of trouble. That was what he'd always been best at. Talking. Reasoning. Never fighting or shouting or anything of the like. So what was there to be proud of? Eloquence had never been a particularly valued trait in their society.

He wondered, then, if Hiccup would ever change things; change the way Vikings saw each other, the way they spoke, the way they thought. He could picture that better than Hiccup standing, blood-splattered and muscular, over the corpse of a downed dragon.

_You are many things, Hiccup, but a dragon-killer is not one of them._

"G'night, Dad," he heard Hiccup say, and then the green eyes slipped off again, and Hiccup was scurrying up the stairs two at a time, not expecting a reply.

"Good night, Hiccup," Stoick murmured, and the last ember in the fire flickered and went out.


	20. Conditional

**This is by far the **_**worst**_** piece I have written for this challenge and I hope to the gods above that no one will hold it against me. It was purely experimental. I **_**never**_** write from the first person for characters that are not mine; it just feels... intrusive to me, haha. And I think first person can only be used if, like... you **_**really**_** know the character. Specifically if you created the character. That's just me. Some people do it brilliantly.**

**Anyway, this idea's been floating around in my brain since we started re-learning the conditional tense in my French class. It's a set of verb conjugations that only works if what you are saying is a condition... oh, jeez, THERE WAS A CONDITIONAL STATEMENT, RIGHT THERE. If. If if if. What a crazy word.**

**I like to think of this as not-quite-Hiccup, but the part of Hiccup that tries to be logical and detached about all situations.**

**Do your best to enjoy.**

–

If I kill a dragon, then my life will get infinitely better.

If I kill a dragon, then my dad might look me in the eye.

If I kill a dragon, then I… then I might just be one of you guys.

–

This is it. If I kill a Night Fury, then I'll be a hero. Dad will… fall down blubbering from pride, or whatever. I'll have friends.

It'll be easy. Just stab it and cut out its heart. No problem. Easy. _Easy_.

No.

If I kill this dragon, then it'd be just like what that Whispering Death did to Mom. Merciless.

No excuse. It's still…

If I kill it, then I'll never forgive myself.

It looks so scared.

I know scared. _Don't look at me like that_.

Gods. If I let it go, Dad's going to have my hide. It might even kill me! If I just kill it now, then… everything will be better. Just like I want. Infinitely better. This is what I wanted. It _is_. I know it is. I…

If I run fast enough, maybe it won't have the time to eat me alive after I cut the ropes.

–

Let's see. If I increase the distance between the spokes by just about an inch, then the potential velocity goes up by ten.

If I use suede, it might tear too easily. Leather's more similar to Night Fury hide. If I use leather, it'd be more natural; more effective.

I'll give him fish. If I give him fish, he'll know I'm not a threat.

–

No. I can't tell Dad. If I tell Dad, he'll disown me. He'll throw me out the window. And then he'll probably snap me in half for good measure.

But… maybe I can get them to understand. If I show them that dragons are harmless, I could lose my dad, but… I could change things. For everybody.

No. No, that's not… it can't work that way.

If I keep it a secret, they won't kill Toothless. No one will be the wiser.

–

Maybe if I've got Astrid on my side, then I can win this thing. I can convince them to change. I don't know anymore. She could beat the acceptance into them, maybe? Maybe. Gods. So many maybes.

–

If I go up there and fight the Green Death, I could die. I probably _will_ die. At least that's better than having to change three generations, though.

But if I don't, everyone _else_ could die. Dad. Gobber. Astrid. Lout, Legs, Ruff, Tuff.

I never thought I'd be caring this much about all of them.

I can hear Astrid. Sort of. It's barely there.

"_Go_."

If I go, will I ever see you again?

Wind. It's so cold up here.

–

I'm falling.

Dumbest thing to say.

But I am.

Things are blurry.

Different.

_If I die, then… it will have been for something good. Something I never thought I could do._

Everything's burning.

_But… living would be nice, too._

_So, uh, Thor… take pity on me?_

–

It's never been this sunny on Berk before.

Man, if things are this great, then I must be dead.

I've never seen Dad smile at me like that.

Not even Toothless could fly me that high.

_Toothless_.

If… If I'd killed you that day, then…

Then…

Thank the gods I didn't.

–

Life is full of conditions. Conditions and consequences. Ifs and thens and maybes. There's a certain science to it. A mechanical layout. Predictions, possibilities.

The outcomes are elusive. Like fleeing Terrors, they scatter and burst.

I think it's good, though. That I lost my leg. I'm glad I lost that rather than myself.

…I have never tried to sound philosophical in my life and I look like an IDIOT.

This is still me. Still Hiccup. Still scrawny and limping.

Well, not really limping anymore.

Astrid calls it graceful hobbling.

I just call it tripping.

If I hadn't done all this, would she ever have started talking to me?

Well. Thank the gods I did it. Even if I _do_ have to deal with a hibernating dragon in the middle of my bedroom floor now, it was worth it.

…"Even if."

If.


	21. Unforeseen

**Well, first off, this is a request fic! Go me, stealing other people's ideas! I've really made one more step toward being original! :D'**

**The line **_**love is watching someone die, so who's gonna watch you die**_**? is from the Death Cab for Cutie song "What Sarah Said." DCFC are one of my favourite bands, so this was an awesome excuse to shove them into a fic, haha. The requester, Opaul on , said the line reminded her a lot of Hiccup and Astrid. I agree with her. Plus for some reason those opening piano notes gave me the image of Astrid struggling to get to Hiccup. I dunno why; they just did.**

**So, yep! This isn't all that great, but eh. I haven't written any in a while, so. (Also I suck at angst but whatever.)**

**WOOOOO CANON!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, thank goodness.**

–

Astrid had been screaming when the explosion died down.

She was ashamed to say it now, to think of it – of herself clawing at Snotlout's arms as he held her back from the inferno, of his shouts at her to stay calm while she shrieked Hiccup's name over and over, watching him fall through the swells of flames.

It was a disgusting thing, she thought, for a girl – _woman_ – of her emotional caliber to unravel so seamlessly in front of those who had seen her as a rock against the current. She was _not_ the type to care about things like this. In all honesty, she had expected that she would perhaps bow her head in respect in the wake of death, and had been entirely prepared to do so – until she saw the tumbling speck she knew was the crookedly-grinning boy who had impolitely bumped into her heart just the night before.

She had always thought his name was ridiculous, but now, as it tore itself from the deepest recesses of her being and echoed sharply through the fog, she could not think of a more noble or heartbreaking sound. She thrashed and wailed in Snotlout's vice-grip, scrambling at nothing, her arms outstretched to Hiccup. Plummeting Hiccup, brave Hiccup, aggravating Hiccup, impossible Hiccup, _dead_ Hiccup?

She hadn't predicted this. She couldn't have; not in a thousand years or more. She hadn't predicted caring. She hadn't predicted the steely, sickening hand that was now clenched around her stomach, making it lurch and flutter and squirm.

"Astrid!" Snotlout's voice was harsh but strangled in her ear. "Don't bother! Astrid – _Astrid_—!"

"No!" she howled, struggling as violently as she ever could. "No; he can't! We have to go save him! We have to go—"

"Astrid." That was Fishlegs, in the edge of her hearing, his voice soft and reasonable. "There's nothing we can do."

She felt a hand on her elbow – Ruffnut's. It was not so much for comfort as it was for her own support, for she was staring wide-eyed at the aftermath of the blast, her pupils shrunken in terror. Astrid nudged her off viciously.

"Calm _down_, kamikaze." Even Tuffnut's insults were rife with disbelief and uncertainty.

"Let me go!" Astrid screamed, writhing frantically against the push of Snotlout's forearms. "I said _let me go_, Lout, or I'll tear you apart!"

"Don't be an idiot, Astrid; there's no way he's…!" Astrid never thought she would hear Snotlout talking with such sorrowful resignation about anyone, much less his cousin. "We have to get clear; there could be more explosions, or the fire could spread—"

Astrid could no longer hear him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Stoick stumbling helplessly forward, toward the hazy silhouette of a dark, fallen form. The sound of her heartbeat throbbed against her ribcage like an axe chopping wood. She inhaled sharply and, with every fiber in her body, heaved forward and broke away from Snotlout's grasp, her feet clattering into the rocky surface of the island as she rushed after the now-distant outline of their chief. Others from the tribe had followed him and were beginning to crowd around her view, which only made her feel dizzier, more desperate and starved. She heard Snotlout shout after her, but ignored it.

As she staggered through the gathering throng, she felt her whole body trembling. Her hair stuck to her face and her palms slipped and slid against whoever she pushed aside. She kept trying to swallow, but there was no substance in her mouth; her throat was thick and impossibly paralyzed. At the forefront of her mind was a memory of Hiccup at the age of eight, when he'd come to sit beside her after her father's dirge and had shown her shapes in the clouds, shapes that had swept her up and taken her away from the rumbling rain around them. He had slowly, cautiously embraced her; it had been awkward because he'd tried it from the side, but she still had buried her face in the crook of his elbow and allowed her cries to be muffled by the wool that coated it. He had patted her shoulder and cleared his throat a couple of times, but otherwise been silent. She had thanked him and left, but his auburn hair had lit up as the clouds had parted to let in scattered splashes of sunshine. That was the first time she had noticed that his eyes were green.

After the recollection came a string of words she had once heard her mother say in a voice tired like the bottom of a boat that had voyaged farther than it had ever planned to: "Astrid, dearest heart; love is watching someone die. I pray to the gods each day that you'll never have to learn the truth of that."

As she scrabbled hopelessly through the crowd, she wondered what the gods had against her mother to ignore her wishes so cruelly.

Vaguely, she heard Stoick's hoarse burr: "Oh, son… I'm so sorry."

_No_.

She had never felt so small, so like a child. Everyone was inexplicably taller, their infinite backs blocking her view as she attempted to shove past them; she was not wrestling through people, but years – stacks upon stacks of years that felt like they were crushing down on her. She was too young to be here, she heard them say. She should turn away and run.

It took her a moment to realize it when she finally made it to the front. She tripped a little, pitching forward, but caught her balance and couldn't help swaying backwards at the sight: the Night Fury – _Toothless_, that's right; he'd named it Toothless – was a crumpled, exhausted form, its saddle scorched, its prosthetic tailfin crumbling to ash. It was letting out long, exhausted rumbles, eyeing Stoick blearily.

There was no sign of Hiccup.

Astrid felt as though her face was splitting in two and, infinitesimally, she shook her head. This wasn't possible. Hiccup wouldn't just up and die on them; he was too strong, too innocent; she _loved_ hi—

No. No, no, what was she saying? She couldn't _love_ Hiccup. She'd only really just started _talking_ to Hiccup one day ago! They'd barely been friends for hours! Were they even friends, or just allies? She'd spent a good chunk of the last month wanting to break him in half. Horrible, obnoxious Hiccup, cracking squinty grins at her with his uneven teeth and high freckly cheeks whenever she'd start shouting at him. Stupid, brainless Hiccup, who had almost cost the two of them their lives that day against the Nadder by bungling around and getting in her way. Amazing, brave Hiccup, who had sat with her as they soared beneath the aurora borealis, who had resolutely told her that he was prepared to defy traditions regardless of the cost. Hiccup, whose cheek had been impossibly warm beneath her lips—

She couldn't love Hiccup. That would be stupid. That would be… too fast, like in a bedtime story. It couldn't just _happen_. People didn't fall in love overnight. And they were only eighteen! (Well. _Only_.)

This wasn't possible. It was too spontaneous, too illogical.

_"There's something about it, Astrid. I don't think you really realize you love a person until you see them leave you forever. And by then, it's…"_

"Hiccup!" she shouted, unable to contain herself. Whispers rippled through the crowd as curious and sharp eyes darted at her. She whirled around, her eyes desperately scanning the fog-smothered area. "Hiccup, don't do this to me! If you're dead, I'll _kill_ you, you little…"

"Astrid." That was Gobber in her ear, one hand on her shoulder. She blinked and stared at him. He pointed at the scene before them with his false hand.

She followed his indication and her eyes widened – Toothless had opened his wings and there, lying in them as though asleep, was Hiccup. Her breath caught in her throat like a needle.

Stoick leapt forward and Hiccup fell into his arms. Toothless was huffing, his head feebly raised, his large green eyes fixed on his rider. Stoick threw his helmet aside and pressed an ear to Hiccup's scrawny chest, his hands clutching the boy's shoulders desperately.

Astrid was sure she would never learn how to breathe again. A stupid thought crossed her head, and that was that she had never _really_ heard Hiccup laugh. She had never hugged him properly. She had never told him that he didn't need to be jealous of Snotlout.

Something rippled violently and visibly through Stoick's body, and Astrid sagged forward a little, thinking it was grief. But no – their Chief's voice, raspy with emotion, rang out over the landscape.

"He… he's alive! You've brought him back alive!"

An enormous, overwhelming cheer erupted from the tribe, shaking the tops of the rock formations. Astrid could feel herself breathing again, labored from relief – ecstasy – gratitude. Her hands flew to her mouth and she… were her cheeks wet? Oh, gods, how embarrassing. She didn't brush the tears away.

_Well, Hiccup_, she thought, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably, _I guess… this isn't really love yet, then. And good thing, too! That would have been ridiculous. _

Even though she knew it was impossible, she swore she heard him echo back, in that typical sly, nasally mumble, _yet_?


	22. Foolish

**AW YISS RUFFLEGS. **

**This is one of the few requests I'll be doing (PM me if you have one!) and it was requested by my beloved Janna-Hawkins. BEST PROMPT EVER. I had so much fun doing this one ahaha! I need to do Rufflegs more often. Also twinly love as an added bonus! CALL NOW TO CLAIM THIS SPECIAL OFFER BEFORE TIME RUNS OUT.**

**Uhhh these characters aren't mine, obviously, or I would be writing damn fanfiction.**

–

When Fishlegs had woken up this morning, being knocked unconscious had been the very last thing he'd expected to wind up doing. Leave it to Ruffnut to yank up his plans and shake the change out of their pockets.

The events leading up to it had been, in a word, innocuous; just another fight between the Thorston twins over something trivial like whose hair was longer or who had more freckles. He'd been watching it with his usual degree of helplessness, maybe poking up a finger and starting a sentence every now and then before giving up on it. But then things got, at least in his eyes, a bit ugly.

"Just because I'm the only girl still left in this family, _you_ think you can push me around!" Ruffnut screeched, lunging at Tuffnut.

"I don't think; I know!" Tuffnut snarled back. "Dad and I are the men of the house and that's the way it's gonna stay! Mom didn't die in that raid so she could leave _you_ in charge!"

"You're such a _pig_!" Fishlegs swore he heard something close to tears edge its way into Ruffnut's furious yowls. "I'm gonna cut you up!"

"With what, those nonexistent boobs of yours? They couldn't cut a stick of melted butter!"

"You would know!"

"Oh, shut up, wench! Stop trying to be like Mom; it's not going to work!"

"_YAAAAARRRRRGHHH!_"

Fishlegs had visibly winced as the volume of Ruffnut's kamikaze scream sharply permeated the morning air, closing his eyes to avoid witnessing any carnage that may have ensued as a result.

There was a silence, a shuffle, and then a violent, muffled _crack_.

_Oh, gods_, Fishlegs thought woefully. _She's probably gone and broken his arm, or something, or—_

He dared to peek out of one squinted eye and felt his jaw slacken at the sight. Ruffnut was curled on the ground, her face buried in her knees, her hands clenched over her suddenly bleeding nose. Tears were glistening in her eyes. Tuffnut was frozen in place, with his elbow still raised outward, toward the point at which Fishlegs assumed Ruffnut's face had collided with it.

"_You_—" The string of words emerging from Ruffnut's mouth then were not ones Fishlegs would dare ever repeat.

"Aw, _gods_, Ruff; are you oka—?"

Fishlegs didn't give him the chance to finish.

Something had snapped inside him, seeing Ruffnut whimpering on the ground like that. No one had ever been capable of reducing Ruffnut to anything below mildly angry. He had never seen her sad or agonized or sentimental or anything of the sort. He wasn't entirely sure why seeing someone take away Ruffnut's ferocity made him want to run over something, but it did.

He charged at Tuffnut in a manner that most would later describe as eerily similar to that in which a Gronckle charges at anything red. Tuffnut side-stepped him easily, not reacting in any great way except with a confused cocked eyebrow.

"Whoa, dude; what's got your blubber in a knot?"

"Leave her alone!" Fishlegs shouted, raising a fist even though he wasn't quite sure what he was going to do with it. He heard Ruffnut make some sort of astonished, questioning "muhh?" sound as he thundered toward her brother, and he wasn't entirely sure what happened after that, except for the fact that suddenly he was looking at the sky and it was very blue and… pretty.

–

"You giant walking bowl of stupid! You killed him!"

"I did _not_! Look! Fatty's still breathing."

"You are the single most _despicable_ human being—"

"Ow! What do _you_ care? Just yesterday you were talking about cooking him for the feast tomorrow!"

"Ugh, I think you broke my nose."

"Oh. Uh. Sorry about that. It just, uh… my elbow just kinda…"

"Don't think apologizing is gonna spare your life, butt-elf! I'm _still_ gonna tear your throat out with my teeth!"

"What're you so mad about? I'm sorry I knocked out your boyfriend, okay?"

"HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND, AND THIS IS ABOUT MY _NOSE_!"

"The way it looks, this could be considered an improvement!"

"Don't make me tackle you again!"

"Yeah, 'cause it worked _so_ well last time."

"Aaaargh!"

Ruffnut's sinewy arms jolted toward her brother's throat, but for some reason, she decided to halt them before they made contact, balling her hands into fists and dropping them angrily to her sides. Tuffnut was cowering, his arms shielding his face.

"Whatever," she muttered, turning back to stare down at the now softly snoring Fishlegs.

The mischievous grin on Tuffnut's face would have put the Devil himself to shame as his eyes darted between Ruffnut and Fishlegs. She noticed, and whacked him, hard, in the arm, rolling her eyes.

"I'll leave you and Twiggy alone." He nudged her gleefully before speeding off in the direction of the training ring, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

Ruffnut let out a huge groan and pounded a fist to her forehead, bending backward towards the sky in hopes of stopping the blood still gushing profusely from her nostrils.

"Okay," she grumbled, more to herself than anyone else. "Okay, then. _Fine_."

She shook her head in hopes of clearing it before cracking her neck, stretching, and bending down to pick Fishlegs up and carry him back to her house.

She was astounded that it took her three tries before she realized this was the most idiotic idea in the world.

With a string of rather scandalous words, she grabbed the back of his vest collar and proceeded to start dragging him in the direction of her abode, grunting with effort with each tug.

"Gods, Fishlegs; when your mum said you were big-boned, she wasn't kidding," she wheezed, grabbing him under the shoulders and pulling him further.

It took her much longer than she would have liked to reach home, but it was a welcome accomplishment when she did it, anyway. She used her foot to pry open the door and cart Fishlegs in by one beefy arm, kicking it shut again before somehow rolling him up the stairs and, miraculously, onto her bed. The frame creaked threateningly under his weight, but she paid it no heed, puffing from her ordeal.

"All righty, then; let's get this crap over with," she sighed, taking off her helmet and tossing it disk-like onto her bedside table, going down the stairs three at a time to fetch some water and a strip of linen. When she came back upstairs, her arms were filled with bandages, a pitcher of water, four apples, and a slice of goat cheese. By the end of the day, Fishlegs would only wind up needing three of those four sets of objects.

"Man, Fatso, you sure know how to pick 'em," she said as she dunked one wad of cloth into the pitcher and proceeded to smack it onto his forehead, running it over the gathering bruise on his eye and split lip. "Although I gotta say, that shiner's gonna put Toothless' scales to shame. Why the hell did you jump Tuff, anyway? Not for me, I hope. I was fine. I didn't need _your_ help." As if to prove her point, she pressed down on his nose with the cloth, hard.

She softened, and the pressing became gentle dabbing. "You sure are stupid, Fishlegs Ingerman. I'll never get you. With your statistics and your numbers and your trivia… nobody cares! I mean," she was starting to babble now, "it's not like any of us every paid attention except maybe Hiccup – and before you say anything, no, I _don't _like him that way; he's with Astrid and that's one less guy to beat up around here, so I'm grateful. Not that I'd ever beat you up. You're too…"

Her eyebrows knitted together as she watched him dozing peacefully, a small grin revealing his gapped buck-teeth, and she wondered exactly what he was too much of, and why she never _had_ gotten around to beating him up.

"You're dumb," she said bluntly, soaking the cloth with fresh water. She paused, one hand raised over his forehead. "I… I like that."

She cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks grow hot, and hastily dropped the cloth onto her bedside table and picking up the pitcher, starting to go back downstairs to refill it.

"Th… that's why I jumped 'im." The squeaky mumble coming from her bed made her freeze. "'Cause I luh… like you. 'N 'cause 'm… 'm dumb."

She turned around, still holding the pitcher and the blood-stained bits of cloth, staring at him. He seemed to still be a bit silly from his encounter with Tuffnut's fists, because he was beaming goofily at her, his eyes hazy.

"You are _so pretty_, Ruffnut," he breathed. "You shouldn't forget… I mean… you're just _so pretty_. The prettiest girl on the island."

"What?" Ruffnut shrieked, even though the words had almost made her fall down the stairs and weep. "I am not _pretty_! Don't call me pretty; it makes me seem like a… like a _girl_ or something!"

Fishlegs smiled sleepily, rolling over.

"Your bed's comfortable," he said. "Thanks… for taking care of me… even though I'm dumb."

"W-Well, you're not _that_ dumb," Ruffnut grumbled defensively. "I, uh… it's fine. It's not because I like you or anything though! I'd get in a ton of trouble with Dad if I left you there! And anyway, I—"

"Uh-huh," Fishlegs sighed, and then his snores returned.

Ruffnut let out a nettled squeak, nearly dropping the pitcher, thanking the gods that he'd fallen asleep, because although she'd learned how to take down full-grown warriors in a single blow and how to ride a Zippleback bareback and blind-folded, she had not in all her years heard anything that would even remotely help her respond to _that_.

"And stay asleep!" she snapped indignantly before turning on her heel and stomping downstairs to make him some tea.


	23. Preparation

**Well... hi there, guys! I'll bet any amount of money that ALL of you have forgotten about me by now, which is fine, I suppose, because it's just what I deserve.**

**I know it's been a long, long time since you've heard from me in terms of the 50 prompt challenge. Five months, to be exact. And I have a wealth of explanations for it, seeing as how life has a charming habit of piling all of its tribulations on me at once – not only did it drain every ounce of energy and sanity I had to make it through my spring semester of college (and hey, it paid off, all A's and B's), but as soon as I find a reprieve in coming home for the summer, I discover that my father is dying of cancer and likely will not make it through July. Needless to say, I haven't had much time for fic-writing.**

**I'm not sure if regular updates will resume, and I'm not going to try to make them. I haven't forgotten about this project and, with God as my witness, I swear here and now that I **_**will**_** finish it. I'm almost halfway done! I don't know how long it'll take, but I'll do it, even if there's nobody around to see it by the end.**

**Well, enough of my jabberin'. This fic was inspired by this beautiful track from the original soundtrack of **_**The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya**_**. Listen to it in the background as you read; the experience will be enhanced. **

**And now, I give you my usual final words: **

**Enjoy!**

–

Hiccup can hear rain falling outside.

He can hear logs crumbling in the hearth.

He can hear murmurs coming from beyond the closed doors.

There is a certainty to all of them, an inescapable presence. As he stands in the dim, drafty pit of the all too large room, eyes gazing blindly at the floor, he is aware of one thing above all else, and that is that he cannot breathe.

He keeps trying. He keeps trying to gather air in his chest, to steal it from the suffocating emptiness that surrounds him, but he can't. He can only blink every now and then and wonder, raggedly, distantly, what is happening, and why it is happening to him.

The mantle on his shoulders is heavy and hot, like the corpse of a fallen friend slung over him as he runs from battle. His hair falls past his eyelids, clouding his vision – or are those tears? – and his fingers twitch at his side. His prosthetic foot is cold and cumbersome. He swallows and it almost rips his throat open. Everything around him is dry and hollow, except for the edges of his eyelashes, which feel damp, scared.

A candle goes out, and the door slides open. Someone slips in and approaches him, slowly, and stands beside him.

He feels fingers gather in his.

"Hiccup?" It is Astrid, soft and strong and, and gods bless her today and eternally, she is everything he could never be.

He can't reply to her. His voice has fled, cowering in the corners of some distant nighttime.

"They're waiting for you," she whispers.

"I," he swallows again, that same dry lump. "I know. Just… just give me a few more seconds…"

"Hiccup." Her voice is gentle. "They need you."

He hasn't looked up from the floor since she entered, and still can't bring himself to do it. The murmurs outside are dissipating, replaced by faltering silence. He feels Astrid squeeze his hand.

"I can't," he chokes. "I can't do this, Astrid; I never could—"

"Shhh." Now her other hand is on his shoulder. "Yes, you can."

"No, that was…" He can feel his voice, wrought with an onslaught of tears. "This was… this was all him. I could never do this kind of thing, and he…"

"He'd be proud of you," Astrid tells him, and at last he raises his head to look at her, and her smile is sorrowful. "He'd be _so_ proud of you, Hiccup."

"B-But this… I… never…" His sentences are snatched from him before he can even begin them, and he wants to crawl upstairs into the bed he has known for years; he wants to hear snores rumbling through the house; he wants to hear irritated grumbling echo each morning amidst the sound of a chirping dragon; he knows that if he feels any more alone he will collapse under the weight of it all.

But he has Astrid. He has always had Astrid.

"I'm not meant for this," he whimpers, his eyes searching hers helplessly. "I can't go out there and disappoint them; I can't… ruin them like that…"

Astrid looks at him as though he has lost all sense, as she often looks at him. But her brashness has been left behind along with her briskness, and she only holds onto his fingers and raises a hand to his cheek and he relaxes into it, his eyes closed, his brow sinking.

"He knew you could do this, Hiccup. They all do. They know you'll be—"

"This isn't me, Astrid!" He croaks, and he wraps his arms around her tightly, clutching to her, frightened of letting go, more frightened than he has been of anything, more frightened than he felt as he approached the club-tail of the Green Death. "I can't lead them into… into something like this; I'm not… I'm not Dad! _Look at me_!"

He steps away and throws his arms out, disgusted with himself. "I'm as scrawny as I was four years ago! I've barely reached nineteen moon-cycles! I'm still… _scared_ of everything, and I'm still _clumsy_, and I'm _weak_ because of this… this _thing_!" He shoots a hateful glare at his metal foot. "Gods, I don't…"

He pushes his palms against his eyes, crouching in on himself until he's on the floor, curled and pathetic. "I don't know what to do without him. How could he do this to me? How could he leave me like this? How could he drop this _war_ on me and expect me to be able to lead the island into battle? I'm so scared! Astrid, Astrid; I'm so _scared_!"

He weeps then, too tired of trying not to anymore. The cold emptiness radiating from his father's bed, now his, pierces through his every sense. The unwashed dishes, the helmet gathering dust on its peg, the dying fire, the total and utter and bone-cracking _silence_, and he regrets every moment he spent disappointing him, wanting to run out into the night and never come back, wanting to soar through foreign skies on Toothless' back and never need to look behind him in regret. But he can't run anymore. The house is enormous and freezing and as he feels Astrid kneel beside him and gather him in her arms, he weeps.

"Don't be," she says, and he thinks of a time when a show of such weakness would have made her recoil in disgust.

They remain like that, together, for a short time, but to him it feels like fortnights, but then her hand is under his chin and she brings his face up from its refuge in the smoothness of her _slædur_. She runs one thumb beneath his right eye, brushing away tears, and kisses him, deeply and faithfully. She stands, then, and he stands with her, no longer staggering.

"They believe in you," she whispers. "We all do. No matter what happens, you will _never_ let us down."

She extends her hand to him and he gazes at it without moving.

"Come on," she says, and beckons him to the door. "Toothless is waiting outside. You always get better when you're next to him."

Before Hiccup takes her fingers and allows her to lead him out into the snow and the crowd, he watches her for a fleeting moment, watches the flickering orange light of the embers wash over her silken cheeks, illuminating her faint little spray of freckles on her nose, freckles that disappear in crinkles when she laughs. He turns his head behind him and takes in the home, his and his father's – his eyes rove up to the high beams of the ceiling, and, briefly, he can hear echoes of red-bearded laughter in them.

His gaze returns to Astrid, who is patient and silent, and at last he ghosts his fingers beneath hers, kisses the back of her hand, and approaches the door beside her.

He inhales – the lump is gone – and opens the door.


End file.
